14
GIULIO
Real friends will help you hide a body. Real husbands will get rid of it completely.
My phone pings in the middle of the client meeting. My gaze shoots to Dante’s—the other man’s disgruntled expression making it clear he’d rather be anywhere else but here. But he continues to listen to the client’s list of demands as I casually withdraw my cell and glance down at the screen.
One of the client’s bodyguards sends me a dark look, but I ignore it in favor of scanning the messages. Marco De Angelo is not a man accustomed to being ignored or not being the center of attention, and all of his employees are aware of that. Unfortunately for him, hiring us to manage his arms shipments doesn’t make him fucking royalty. It may buy the Lucianis’ time but not our worship.
So, instead of listening to De Angelo’s complaints about turnaround and costs, I turn my attention to my cell as I spy the button now flashing on the tracking application for one Daisy La Rosa.
A moment later, a text comes through. I read what she sent and feel a muscle in my eye start to twitch. The urge to find her, pin her down, and slap the shit out of her ass rolls through me like a tidal wave. My fingers hesitate over the screen, but I don’t end up responding and slip the phone back into my pocket before returning my attention to De Angelo.
An hour later, and well over our scheduled meeting time, I’m half ready to throttle the aging old bastard with his turkey giblet of a neck. “Enough,” I bark, startling De Angelo into shutting his mouth.Finally. Then, I lean forward. “If you have an issue with our company’s requirements and processes, then perhaps you should find another Family willing to source your arms, Mr. De Angelo. We are more than happy to continue the service we’ve provided for your Family for years—at the agreed-upon price and with the same shipment policies and times we’ve always had.”
He blusters for a moment, and Dante sits back, covering his smirk with a hand as he scratches his jawline. “Mr. La Rosa, I have been a loyal—” I swear to fuck if this man says “customer,” I’m going to lose my shit.
I level him with a dead look. “Let’s not mince words, Mr. De Angelo,” I snap. “You’re a black market arms dealer.” A small one that only supplies ammo and guns to gangs, motorcycle clubs, and the occasional idiot who can’t pass a background check to get one legally, but to remind him would hurt his delicate feelings, so I don’t say as much. “The arms you want need to be brought into the country, sanitized, and prepared for any eventuality. Move any faster, and you run the risk of someone fucking up.” And fuck-ups of that nature are likely to landeither of us in prison for a long fucking time—something I’m not willing to let happen.
Dante sits up as if he senses my murderous desire taking root. “We took this meeting with the understanding that you had concerns we could mitigate,” he says, looking De Angelo over with a smile akin to a shark’s. “But as my brother has explained, we cannot do anything about the shipment times. Therefore, I think it’s time to call an end to this meeting. If you wish to cancel any orders with us, you’re welcome to contact my secretary.”
I’m out of my chair the second Dante begins to stand and reach into his suit coat. He offers De Angelo his business card and then nods. “It was lovely to see you again, and I’m sorry if this outcome is not to your satisfaction, but we have more people to protect than just our clients. I’m sure you understand. Thank you for your time.”
De Angelo takes Dante’s card with a wide-eyed look of astonishment, and as we turn to leave the glass conference room, I hear the man mutter, “Vulgar half-breed, don’t know why Luciani—”
Dante puts his hand on my arm to keep me from turning back around and slamming my fist into the old man’s face as the last of whatever De Angelo says disappears behind the closed door of the meeting room. “Don’t,” he warns me. “Just keep walking.”
With a snarl, I turn and follow the order, stomping down the hall and toward the elevators. There are cubicles and several larger glass offices, echoing with the sound of phones ringing and people talking in the background. “Smile at the employees,” Dante suggests, his tone a bit lighter now that we’re awayfrom De Angelo. He, for his part, waves at one of the women passing by in a pencil skirt with a pile of papers in her hand.
“Fuck you,” I mutter. He laughs.
“This is a business, G,” Dante reminds me. “They can’t see you go off and beat a man’s head in. It would ruin the illusion.” The illusion of a reputable company and not one shipping black market materials to smaller criminals. He casts me a reproachful look. “What’s got you so riled, anyway? You don’t normally lose your cool, even when clients are being difficult.”
I spot Alonzo standing by the circular desk outside of the bank of elevators. “Car,” I tell him as he straightens. “Now.”
He bobs his head and takes off into an elevator. I turn to Dante, pull out my phone again, and show him the last message I received from Daisy. As soon as Dante reads it, he starts laughing again.
“Your wife?” he snorts. “She’s the one who’s got you all upset?”
This whole marriage business is turning out to be more of a pain than I originally expected—and my expectations hadn’t been high in the first place. I slide my phone back in my pocket. “I should just lock her in the house,” I say. “That would make my life a hell of a lot easier.”
If she’d just stayed where I put her, I wouldn’t have been sitting in that damn meeting, my knee bouncing with a combination of agitation and annoyance, wondering where she was and what she was doing.
“You know, you never got to meet my ma,” Dante says, leaning his back against the empty circle desk as I move to the elevators and press the button. Surely, Alonzo has had enough time by now. “ButPapáand her used to fight all the time.”
I arch a brow. “Really?” I can’t imagine Don Luciani fighting with a woman, but then, I’ve never seen him with one in a romantic sense. He never remarried after Dante’s mother passed.
“Really.” Dante nods. “I know you probably think he was the type to lay down the law and expect to be obeyed, and maybe with us, that’s how it is—but with Ma…” He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth lifting as if he remembers something particularly amusing. “She wasn’t the type to be ordered about like a soldier—or so she’d tell him. He’d give her a command, she’d tell him to shove it up his ass, and then the next thing you knew—they’d be locked up in their room, and I wouldn’t see them for hours. When I did, Ma’s hair was always a mess, and she was in a much better mood.”
The elevator doors slide open, and together, we get inside, hitting the button for the lobby. “So, you’re saying I should fuck her into compliance?” I ask.
Dante shifts slightly as we descend. “I’m saying it might be a preferably option to locking her up.” We arrive on the bottom floor where the parking garage is located and step out of the elevator. “Women are usually much more apt to do as you ask when they’ve had a few orgasms.”
I consider his words as we stride down the first aisle of cars. Fucking Daisy wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, and maybe Dante has a point. She’s proved to be more independent than I expected. “Don’t most women just want to be fucked, given exorbitant amounts of cash, and then left alone?” I ask. “I’ve done most of that. If I fuck her, then will she stop driving me mad?”
Dante stops as headlights flash ahead, the car Alonzo haddropped me off in earlier slowing as it nears us. Dante looks at me, his brows rising toward his hairline. “I know you haven’t had many relationships, G, but please don’t tell me that you’ve only ever dated escorts.”
I shoot him a dark look and nudge him to open the car door as Alonzo stops right next to us. When he does and slides inside, I get into the vehicle behind him. “Of course not,” I say as soon as we’re off the street. “But you can’t deny that they’re easier to work with.”
