I lean against the car, still keeping the door open, and wait.
Tania makes an impatient sound from inside—she’s already in the driver’s seat—but I ignore her. She’s a good employee, one I’ve been friendly to because that’s my role in the pack. I’m the “nice guy.”
She’s always mistaken my kindness for flirting, though.
Lark set the record straight almost immediately, a fact that amuses me greatly. Her little possessive intervention made me want to grab her and kiss her.
But then her brother answered the phone.
“You still should have called me. I would have come home,” she tells him. Whatever he says back to that has her wincing in response, and a glimmer of doubt creeps into her features. Followed by guilt.
I’m not sure what he’s saying to her, but I don’t like it.
I’m two seconds away from taking the phone from her when she surprises me by holding it out toward me. “He wants to talk to Lazarus. Since he’s not here…” She trails off, her fierce tone from before no longer existent. Instead, she sounds defeated. Which I strongly dislike.
I gladly accept the device and say, “Talk to my omega like that again, Bianchi, and I won’t hold back the next time I see you.”
“Your omega?” Giovanni returns. “Youromega? Fuck, you’re just as bad as Ferraro!”
“In regard to my possessive feelings? Probably,” I admit. “So, how’s New Jersey?”
Silence transcends for a beat, Giovanni no doubt considering his options. I’ve known the alpha for a long time. As have Noah and Laz. We all went to private school together.
While the families might be competitors, they’re also allies in many ways.
That’s what keeps New York City from being taken over by any other syndicate—the Bianchis, Ferraros, and Riccis look out for one another where it counts.
“Where’s my sister?” Giovanni asks quietly.
Deciding that we’re a safe enough distance away, I decide to answer truthfully by giving him our airport name. “But we’re in the process of leaving,” I add. “We’re planning to have a late dinner at the Ferraro estate.”
It’s just after two in the morning, the flight from Colorado having taken three and a half hours. With the time change, our schedule is a bit out of sorts.
“Your pack will never get away with this,” Giovanni seethes.
“I believe we already have,” I tell him, then gesture with my chin for Lark to get in the car. “I’m handing the phone back to your sister now. But before I do, you owe the incoming jet a check.”
“A check?”
“Yes. They received word thirty minutes ago of a generous donation being made by the Bianchi Family Foundation.”
Giovanni’s growl causes my lips to twitch.
But it’s Lark’s expression that amuses me more. She’s staring at me like I’ve just given her the moon.
“The missive said the CEO was en route to meet them at the airport and to hand over the check personally. Oh, and several news agencies were copied in on the announcement.”
The growling turns to cursing.
“Now, I might not be a marketing guru,” I go on, “but I think it would look bad not to deliver on such a heartfelt promise, yeah?”
“You fucking?—”
“I hope you wore something photo appropriate, Mr. Bianchi,” I interject. “I suspect the news vans will be arriving any minute now. Enjoy!”
I hang up before he can say anything else and hand the phone to Lark.
“Do you think your brother will adopt one of the animals?” I ask her conversationally. “Or does he travel too much?”
