“Stephan Bianchi sent us,” I tell them. “We’re here to talkbusiness.”
“You call?” he asks.
I raise a brow. “I wasn’t aware I needed to call anybody, but if they don’t want to talk about making a deal, we’ll just get right on out of here.” I start to turn on my heel and there’s a part of me that hopes they let us leave without another word. Then my problem with them will be solved for the most part.
Unfortunately, the man speaks up again.
“Wait,” he says quickly. “Show me your weapons and you can go in.”
I turn back around and reveal the gun on my hip, but I keep my knife holstered and hidden. They don’t need to know about it—just in case.
Butch shows his as well. He has two guns on him, and they look at us with an uneasy expression. “You leave your guns at the door, got it?”
“Now, how can we be sure we’re not walking into a trap?” Butch asks.
The man eyes us slowly. “You can’t. Just like we can’t know you’re not here to stir up trouble.”
Right at that second, the door opens up behind the two armed men and a familiar face stands out. Lucas.
“Trevor,” he says and glances over to Butch. “Butch Bianchi.”
Butch grins and steps forward. “We’re here to talk.”
“I gathered that,” Lucas tells us. “Did you have to bring him?” he asks me.
Butch’s grin drops and he glares at the man.
“Can’t be too safe,” I insist. “Now, are you gonna let us in or not?”
I walk right in front of the armed men and stand practically between them, my eyes on Lucas and Lucas only. He looks hesitant for a second but then smirks and nods his head.
“Let ‘em in boys. I was expecting Trevor,” he explains.
The guards part to either side and let us pass. I walk in first with Butch following close behind. The place is a fucking disaster inside. The structure is falling apart, from cracks in the ceiling to water damage in the walls. It’s clear that the Carvels haven’t been doing well since they lost their ass to the Dresvannis and no longer have access to the Fioretti’s bank account.
“So, you must be pretty pissed at Soren,” I tell Lucas as we walk down the hallway, presumably toward the office or board room. “All that work just for Eivor to be taken down and the Fiorettis joined at the hip with the Dresvannis.”
“Pissed isn’t the word,” Lucas grumbles. “The things we did for that man…only for his wanna-be son, nephew, to turn on him…what a fucking mess.”
Butch chuckles from behind us. “Guess you never know how this shit is gonna turn out.”
We’re led into an office that used to be Lucas’s father’s, but now belongs to his older brother. Matteo.
“Matteo, you’ve got visitors,” Lucas says casually. He steps to the side and lets us go in first.
“Ahh, Bianchi…” he says looking at Butch first from where he sits behind the desk. His arms are folded but he’s got a cigarette in one of them.
“Trevor, is it?” he asks me. “You got a last name?”
I eye him. “Not one I give out easily.”
He smirks at me. “Smart man.” Matteo takes a drag of his cigarette and then sits up straighter in his chair.
“I assume you’re here to talk about the deal Lucas mentioned at the charity party,” he says. “I’m disappointed Stephan didn’t come here himself.”
“We need to make sure you’re serious first,” I explain. “Lucas mentioned you came into an arms deal recently?”
Matteo glances at Lucas briefly. “It seems my brother doesn’t know when to keep his fucking mouth shut,” he grins in a tightlipped manner. “You know now, so, guess there’s no using that against you.” He laughs, as though he’s made a joke of some kind.
