Page 71 of Lust and Honor

“This was supposed to be a private meeting, Senator,” I say.

He adjusts his tie, avoiding my eyes, and addresses Carlo. “Roberto’s running for city council soon. He’s not far from my position. If you’re alright with it, I’d like him to start getting familiar with the business now.”

Carlo studies Roberto for a moment before responding. “Your father’s got a long history with us. His honesty earned the Bruni family’s trust. You might inherit his seat, but to have my protection, you should start from zero and prove yourself to me.”

Roberto nods politely. “Understood, Mr. Bruni. I’m eager to build a relationship as strong as the one you have with my father.”

Carlo nods, then turns to Rosa. “My men noticed the guards at the docks have been replaced. Why wasn’t I informed?”

Rosa clasps his hands on the table. “The old guards started asking questions they had no right to. They wanted a bigger cut to keep their mouths shut. I fired them and made sure their mouths stayed shut.”

I tap my fingers on the table. “The question was why we weren’t told, not why they were replaced.”

Rosa goes quiet for a moment, then fixes his cold eyes on me. “The dock workers get their share from my cut. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Carlo exchanges a glance with me, his tone icing over. “Everything that happens on that dock—who comes, who goes, even if a rat dies there—matters to me, Senator. I thought we were clear on that.”

The senator’s tone turns warmer. “I’ve worked with the Bruni family since your father’s time, Carlo. I thought you trusted me more than that.”

Carlo’s voice cuts like a blade. “I trust protocol. The unwritten codes. Once those are broken, trust loses all meaning.”

The color drains from Rosa’s face, and he falls silent. My eyes flick to Roberto, casually sipping his drink, oblivious.

Carlo takes a sip of his scotch and says with authority, “I’m holding back the next shipment until the new guards’ backgrounds are vetted. And to make up for the damage this delay is causing to my business, you won’t be getting a cut from the incoming shipment.”

Rosa nods. “No problem, Carlo. I assure you, this kind of misunderstanding won’t happen again.”

Carlo throws him a pointed look. “That’s best for everyone, Senator.”

After they leave, Brando lights a cigar and stands by the fireplace. “Something’s off with him.”

Carlo agrees. “Either he’s gone senile, got family drama, or he’s lost his damn mind and thinks he can cross me. Whatever it is, keep an eye on him, Maxim. Call the Wizard and tell him we’re bringing the shipment in by land. I’m not taking risks until this is sorted.”

“You got it, boss.”

Brando chimes in again. “The family issue theory might hold. Rosa’s kept his nose clean all these years, but his son’s itching for trouble.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. “Yeah, I scratched that itch for him once.”

Both Carlo and Brando grin, remembering what I did to Roberto. Brando continues, “Not that. From what I hear, the kid’s a sick fuck. A regular at some underground girl fights in Naples.”

Carlo frowns. “What kind of fights?”

“They throw two desperate girls in a ring to beat each other to death. The loser gets gang-raped after.”

I scoff, pouring myself a drink. Motherfucker still hasn’t learned. The door knocks, and Lorenzo reports that Ava’s arrived at the casino. I leave Carlo with his brother and head to my sexy little strawberry, ready to finish what we started.

***

I hand the keys to the valet, place my hand on Ava’s lower back, and walk beside her toward the entrance. Music is pounding through the lavish lobby, echoing off marble and glass. The doorman recognizes me instantly and welcomes me with a smile.

We stop at the coat check, and I help Ava slip off her long black trench coat. The short red dress clings to her pale skin, perfectly matching her hair. My gaze lingers on her curves, blood rushing harder to my cock. Before the situation in my pants gets obvious, I grab her hand and lead her toward the red double doors.

It’s a busy night. The main floor is packed with people dancing under swirling blue, purple, and red lights from the mirrored balls hanging from the ceiling, moving to the beat of the music. Not a single stool is free at the bar. One of the staff spots me and hurries over, respectfully escorting us to the VIP section.

I settle onto the plush velvet couch beside Ava, scanning the room. Ivan, the club’s owner, is at one of the tables with three girls.

“Why are we here, Maxim?”