“Then I rather make it sooner, don’t you think?” I ground out.
He sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had to intervene. The Rossi brothers were known to be a handful from birth. And while we’d matured with responsibility, we were also known for our short fuses. I was the middle son and since the death of Mateo, my older brother, years ago, I’d not only become adept at controlling my emotions unless provoked, I made damn sure I lived my life the way I wanted, rules be damned.
Remo on the other hand, appeared the epitome of innocence in front of family. At twenty-five and six years younger than me, he was doted on by our mother. She wasn’t ignorant to his less than controlled side when he saw red, though. In fact, she encouraged it. Unlike me or Mateo, Remo was like my father in more ways than Remo cared to acknowledge. He was cold, calculated and lacked sympathy. Yet, like Mateo and I, he possessed one admirable trait. We were loyal as fuck when it came to each other—we’d go down fighting to protect the other.
“I’m meeting with the representatives from the families tomorrow.” Frank pulled me out of my reflections. “See if I can simmer down some of the agitations.”
“Rather you than me,” I shook my head, nipping his expected invitation to join him, in the bud.
Again, he sighed. “I spoke to a few cops on our payroll. They’re checking into Arabella’s movements that night. Hopefully, they can get us some answers.”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you,” I scoffed. “And what if they don’t?”
He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass on the table, his eyes on me. “Just give it a few days, Renz. If nothing comes of it, we can talk again.”
In other words, I could kill a few more fuckers until then. “Fine. Where are you staying?”
“At the Bellagio.” He referred to our family-owned hotel. “Dinner tonight?”
“If nothing comes up, yes.” I watched him make his way toward the door then walked over to the window overlooking the club below. The Serpente—Italian for serpent and aptly named given it was a façade to the real evil power beneath, was busy as usual. I ran a slow gaze over the floor before my eyes rested on the bar. And as fucked up as it sounded, I could’ve sworn my heart skipped a beat.What the fuck is this shit?I didn’t do the love crap much less feel anything for anyone. I fucked. I branded women in my own fucked up way. Sometimes it was simple. Other times, dark and cruel, almost brutal. That was my kind of love. Women might be drawn to me because of my looks but I also believed it was because of my name, my power, and as much as they wouldn’t admit it, they craved the evil I represented. I didn’t let anyone in. I couldn’t. No one could love a man like me.
Yet my eyes defied me, they refused to look away. Drawn by some mysterious influence, I stared. Since Bella’s death, everything else had taken a back seat and I hadn’t thought about sex. What then, was it about the vision below, that had my cock harder than steel? Almost painful in its exertion to be free from the confines of my pants.
The door opening behind me broke the spell. I glanced back as Dario stepped inside. “Anything?” I asked. Nodding, he neared me. “Where?”
“Downstairs. Remo’s handling it.”
“Who’s that?” I pointed to the bar.
He looked toward the bar. “A little young for your taste, isn’t she?” He chuckled.
Dario might be the head of my security, but we had a relationship bordering on friendship. I trusted him with my life and while he was serious as fuck when the need arose, he never hesitated to test the bounds of our friendship. And I let him.
“Her name’s Zena. She heads up the bar.”
I had men running the club and didn’t bother much with the intricacies that went behind it. As long as everything remained up to standard, my involvement was minimal. Mostly, I used the office when I wanted a change of scenery from my home office just outside the city, needed a good fuck or like tonight, I was waiting to torture info out of someone.
“Is she new?” I slipped my hands into my pants pockets. From this distance, she seemed shy and reserved. I liked my women with a little more sass and a lot more fight. I liked them dirty, on their knees with my hands tangled in their hair and my cock in their mouth. Maybe I was wrong, but that woman looked like she’d collapse at the sight of handcuffs. Still, I’d enjoy breaking her, bending her to my will, watching her beg for more.
“No. She’s been here for the last six months.”
“And who’s that next to her?” I pointed to the guy in the process of mixing a cocktail. Judging by the way he kept glancing at her, he was either dating her, obsessed, or jealous with the undisguised admiration she seemed to be receiving from the men leering at her over the bar. Whatever it was, I found myself eager to know.
Dario studied the guy then looked at me. “No idea but he looks kind of young to be an employee.”
My brow shot up. “Are you telling me I’ve underage bartenders working for me?”
He was quick to shake his head, but I didn’t miss the confusion on his face. It seemed like he was just as curious about the unknown barman.
“Grab my jacket—”
“Let me handle it.”
Giving him a stiff look, I strolled toward the door. A second later, he handed me my jacket.
“What about—”
“Let Remo have some fun for now.”
