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LUCIANO’S TARGET
LUCIANO
Luciano Santini stepped out of his chauffeured Rolls Royce and buttoned his hand-tailored suit jacket. He breathed in the brisk October air, welcoming the cool evening. After a nod to his driver, he tied on a simple black mask, collected the designer shopping bags from the back seat, and made his way up the stone stairs toward the etched-glass front doors.
Every last one of the estate’s front-facing windows was illuminated in a freakish red glow.
It’s like I’m walking into hell.
Saturday night, after eleven, and the party was well underway. It had been years since he’d been to one of Burke’s soirees, but he was setting a trap, and it had to be there.
Time to make my move.
One quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that his younger brother, Teddy, was seconds behind him, also in a chauffeur-driven sedan, also wearing a Santini suit.
Just as he reached for the front door, it swung wide. Two women, both wearing French maid outfits, stood in the foyer, their faces concealed behind elaborate feathered masquerade masks.
He liked birds, just not on a woman’s face.
Less is more.
“Good evening, Mr. Santini,” said the petite, light-skinned one.
“It’s a pleasure,” said the taller, dark-skinned woman.
He waited for Teddy before entering the home. Red lighting bathed the home in an eerie glow that added to the already edgy vibe.
“Ladies,” he replied. “Same rules?”
“No, is no,” said the tall one. “Consent is king.”
“We’re also available to play,” said the small one.
Luciano wasn’t there to play with the members, and he wasn’t there to play with the lovelies posted around the mansion either, but they didn’t need to know hisrealintention.
Barefaced, Teddy appeared in the doorway and Luciano threw him a disapproving glance.
“Right, my mask.” Teddy pulled a black one from his suit pocket and fitted it over his eyes.
“Hello, sir,” said the dark-skinned woman. “Name please.”
“He’s with me,” Luciano said.
“Sorry,” blurted the light-skinned woman. “No exceptions.”
Luciano let his gaze linger on one before sliding his attention to the other. Then, he flashed them a smile. One sighed, the other bit back a moan.
Worked every damn time.
“Let Burke know Tank is with me,” Luciano said.
“No need,” said Burke as he joined them. The two men shook hands. “Luciano, you look perfect and I fucking hate you for it.”
Teddy snort laughed as Burke extended his hand. Teddy shook it. “Tank, you look too damn good yourself.”
Luciano’s youngest brother, Theodore Santini was Teddy to the family, Tank to everyone else.
