“We’re not giving,” I replied, my tone stiff. “We’re buying time. Offering you something cleaner, easier than what will descend on you if we go to war.”
The silence stretched before his lips parted in a slow smile; the kind men wore when they decided that blood spill could wait another day.
“Fine. I’ll take it, for now.” He offered Lorenzo a hand. My brother accepted it in a quick shake. Arturo turned to me and my raised brow paused his hand mid-reach. With a soft laugh, he clicked his fingers and the women approached. One of them carried a tray of drinks that she placed on the table between us. “Shall we toast?” Arturo raised a glass.
Lorenzo picked up two glasses and held one out to me, his eyes cautioning me to rein in my anger. I offered a subtle nod, taking the drink.
“I must say, Remo, you’ve grown into your father’s arrogance, that impervious darkness though, that reminds meof someone much more unforgiving. Someone who knew how to control men with just a look.”
A blank stare was all I afforded him.
“Your mother was a res–” Catching my scowl, he trailed off.
My brow shot up, the glass hitting the table with a harsh clink. “Say it,” I bit out, my tone clipped, flattening any emotion threatening to surface.
He gulped. “A respected donna.”
Despite my menacing smirk, the words scraped at that wound I kept tightly locked in. I didn’t doubt there were some who’d agree with his sentiment. To me though, she was the woman who held the keys to my hell, the reason I destroyed anything that so much as hinted at a knot of emotion.
“She’s dead. The past has no place here,” Lorenzo said.
Something in his voice had me glancing at him and I got the distinct impression he was steering the conversation away from me. Yet it was his perceptive eyes that seemed to look right into my dark soul. Alarm bells went off in my gut. Suddenly, the cabin felt too tight, the air unbearably thick. The overarching scent of sweat and sex clung to everything, turning my stomach. My breathing grew uneven, almost too loud in my ears, and the light overhead flickered. Once, twice, like it was mocking me, clawing at the shutters I kept in place, threatening to rip them wide open.
“True.” Arturo’s loud nasally voice pulled our attention.
With practiced precision, the shutter slipped back into place, my clenched fists the only telltale reminder of my internal chaos.
“Shall we drink then, gentlemen?” He lifted his glass.
Lorenzo raised his while mine sat on the table. Arturo chuckled, leaning my way like we were sharing an inside joke, his glass posed midair, waiting. I glared at him, an inch away from ending his fucking life.
When he got no reaction, he let out a nervous laugh. “Okay.” He tipped his glass at my brother. “To present agreements and future collaborations.”
“Sure.” Lorenzo’s response was subtle, his drink not quite reaching his lips. Like me, he didn’t trust this fuck.
With a quick nod to Dario, I stood and headed to the open deck above. As I stepped out into the evening air, a cool breeze brushed my face, the pungent smell of cigarette smoke invading my nostrils. Instinctively, I reached into my pocket for my own pack, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I exhaled slowly on the first drag and leaned over the rail, my eyes riveted on the dark water, a deceptive silence to the danger beneath. Pretty much the epitome of how someone would describe my personality if they were brave enough to analyze it.
One person came to mind. I wouldn’t necessarily call her brave, just so goddamn defiant, she’d become like some fucking fix I craved, confusing me at every fucking step. No matter how much I took from her without asking, she’d merely preface it with either “you’re a monster,” or “I hate you.” Yet perfectly submissive the next time I turned up.
Fishing my phone out my jacket pocket, I dialed Gian. “Boss?” he answered on the second ring.
Loud chatter in the background piqued my interest. “Where is she?”
“Picante,’ he replied, referring to an upmarket Spanish restaurant known for its spicy dishes.
“Remember what I said, Gian.”
“Yes, you’ll skin me alive if anything happens to her.” Even though he knew I’d make good on my promise, he chuckled. “I’ll guard her with my life, boss.” I didn’t doubt him.
As I cut the call, a message pinged from Gian. Frowning, I opened it to a side-profile photo of Ishika laughing at something her friend said. In a white cocktail dress that kissed her thighs,her dark hair falling down her back in thick curls, she was fucking stunning. Yet no matter how bright or wide she smiled, her light couldn’t touch the darkness I was born and raised in. Too bad I’d dragged her into my world because I could offer her nothing besides protection.
The heaviness in my chest pressed down with an almost physical force, spreading along my spine with a merciless intensity, like a tornado rolling in and refusing to break.
Inhaling deeply, I shut my eyes, wishing for calm. Memories submerged me instead, stealing my control, weakening me and like a pathetic fuck, I gave in.
“One day I’ll make you a king, il mio bellissimo ragazzo,” My beautiful boy, she purrs. Her voice silken honey drenches my ears, coating my heated skin as her warm hand trails down my naked chest, sliding lower with each stuttered breath I let out.
Nude nails, painted the same pale pink as her lips, meant to look elegant and sophisticated, dip beneath the waistband of my shorts, easing them down. I want to cry out, to push her away, to beg her to leave me alone but my throat seizes, my mind remembering what happened when she visited my bedroom and I turned into her body, seeking relief from the news of my father’s death.
