The bloodbath with the Irish? I smirk. “I still have the bullet scar on my arm.”
“I have mine on my shoulder.” Marco smirks back at me. “Good bloody times.”
Seb doesn’t seem to share thehappinessof the memory. “You ruined my green Armani suit that day over a spilled Guinness.”
“It was just a little splatter of blood.”
“And brain matter, if I recall correctly,” I add, making Seb close his eyes with what I can only describe as disgust.
“You forgot piss,” he states coldly, cracking his neck.
I can see the mirth in Marco’s eyes. “Seb, you have an aversion to any kind of…fluid near you. It’s pretty hard not to get dirty in our line of work.”
True. I once saw Seb stabbing a man’s hand after he’d spoken too close to him with his mouth full of food.
“And yet I manage just fine when I’m away from you two,” Seb counters.
“We are digressing here. Enzino’s youngest son has access to vital information. Don’t you want me to find out what he knows?”
“I do.” Seb nods slowly, seemingly pondering the fact.
“I don’t give a fuck about the Enzinos,” Marco declares. “But Fly does about this one. They are like besties or some shit.” He pulls on his jacket cuffs. “I promised him we won’t hurt Art.”
“I made a promise too, long before that, fucking years long on my father’s grave. And to keep it, I need to know where Mario hides. How can I make that brat tell me without hurting him?” I snarl, as resentment starts to creep in. I like Fly, but I won’t let him get in my way.
Seb raises his hand. “A little slapping around is fine, but no cutting things that won’t grow back, Luca. And no killing.”
“Che cazzo!” I swear. Why does this keep happening to me? This city should be painted with Enzino’s blood already.
Seb suddenly closes the distance between us. He’s as tall as me, but his body is built like a swimmer against my iron-pumped musculature. He squeezes my shoulder.
“Arturo has to stay alive right now, just until I deal with Coretti.”
“Fly…” Marco’s further nonsense is drowned out by my next words.
“We are close to the Japanese Mafia thanks to Fly’s brother, and you are also negotiating with the Russians. Why do we still need Coretti?”
“The docks. The Russians won’t close the deal if we don’t have control of the whole area. And after the marriage, we won’t, because Enzino won’t let the deal go through since it wasn’t his idea,” Seb clarifies with a hint of irritation.
Fucking fuck! How many times do I have to put the Leone family’s interests above my dead parents?
Seb’s phone breaks through the tense silence that settled between us. He moves a few steps away to answer.
Marco turns to open the back door of his BMW and grabs a bag. He then tosses it unceremoniously at me. I catch it against my chest and glare at him.
“What’s this?” I look inside.
“Fly, the person you don’t give a fuck about, made you a silk tie with a matching square pocket.”
They are lilac with a delicate gold pattern weaving through the smooth fabric. I like to wear unconventional accessories with my dark suits, like vibrant, rich-colored socks or unusual neckwear, and while Marco teases me, Fly likes this side of me. He told me it makes me look more approachable. He is a seamster who sells custom-made male lingerie and accessories on the internet. His online shop,Fly to Honey,is getting very popular, so much so that Seb is helping him with the financial aspect, while Marco opened an office and a warehouse for him.
Fly is a sweet soul, too fucking trusting. Why did he go and become friends with an Enzino? And why do I suddenly feel torn about hurting the brat?
I offhandedly close the bag and scratch the stubble on my cheek with brusque fingers.
“Stop looking at me like that, or I’ll poke your eyes out,” I tersely tell Marco.
He snorts while lighting a cigarette.
