Chapter 30

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Saverio

T he lunch with Luigi drags on until well after three. He likes to talk business over lengthy three-course meals in the restaurant of the hotel where After Dark is located. This afternoon's topic is one that leaves his nephew edgy, because Antonio is fucking up the bookkeeping, and Luigi doesn't like the candidates he interviewed, the ones I proposed. That means Antonio is stuck with the books, and if he messes the finances up more, he'll end up with a bullet in his brain. Luigi is at the end of his patience.

Antonio flees to the upstairs office as soon as Luigi leaves. Giorgio holds me back with a hand on my arm when I take my jacket.

He looks around before saying in a lowered voice, "We need to talk."

I follow him into the elevator and get out on the club level. The cleaners are mopping the floors. The barman is stocking up for tonight, loading the shelves and the fridges with bottles of alcohol.

Giorgio serves two glasses of the best brandy and hands me one. We take our drinks to the VIP section where it's quiet. He takes a sip of his drink and leans his arms on the rail, looking at the activity downstairs. There are cameras but no microphones. It gets too loud here to discern conversations when the music is pumping. The microphones are reserved for the private rooms. For anyone looking at the cameras, it would seem as if we're enjoying an after-lunch drink, but I don't know Giorgio from yesterday. Whatever he's got to say is serious.

He points at the cleaner who sweeps up broken glass from the dance floor. "We should charge a fucking damage fee for every glass of liquor we sell. Do you know how much money we lost this year in breakage?"

"Ten thousand," I say, leaning on the balustrade next to him.

He cuts me a look. "My father told me to put out a hit on Anya."

Every muscle in my body goes taut. Killing rage floods my veins. Even as thick, angry black fog drowns out the edges of my vision, I hold the glass in a steady grip. Take a sip. Let the alcohol burn down my throat and settle with cold fury in my stomach.

My voice is level, my tone calm. "Did you?"

"No," he says, letting his gaze play over my face.

I'm a good poker player. I don't give him an emotion. Not a damn thing. "Why not?"

"I agree with you." He faces forward and swallows another mouthful of brandy. "You need her. Things can still go wrong for us."

He's not only worried about being implicated in a murder. He's scared to risk my loyalty. He knows what will happen if I don't protect him. It's not difficult to figure that one out. Giorgio on his own won't last a day. He can't take over from his father without me. He needs someone to run the show while he pretends to be in charge. Just like Luigi does. He needs a right-hand man he can trust more than he needs his dick.

"So what now?" I ask with a casual smile that hides the murderous rage mounting inside me.

"I'll say I can't find the right man for the price." He twirls his glass, sloshing the liquor. "I'll say I'm looking for someone. Win us time." He shrugs. "Give it a few weeks. My father will forget about it."

Only, Luigi won't. Luigi never forgets. I know what Giorgio is doing. He believes he did his duty by warning me and that he proved his alliance by taking my side. When the push comes to shove and Luigi gets someone to do the job himself, Giorgio will wash his hands of the affair. If he thinks that will save him, he's got another think coming. If Luigi lays a hand on Anya, I'll skin him alive, and then I'll go after every member of his family. Perhaps it's time to tell him that to his face.

"I don't like this business with Raphael," Giorgio says.

And there's the real reason why he doesn't want to piss me off. Luigi and Raphael are getting thick with one another. Giorgio is afraid he'll lose his territory. He needs me to secure the title, the wealth, and the respect that goes with that position. Selfish reasons, as always. I chuckle to myself as I take another swig from my drink. That's who we are. That's what it boils down to. Despite honor, family ties, and sacred blood, we're all protecting our own agendas.

Opening his fingers, he lets the glass go. It drops straight down and crashes on the dance floor with a sharp tinkling of crystal an inch from the cleaner's head. The guy whips around. He looks from the shards to the balcony.

Giorgio grins.

The man pales.

Not taking his eyes off the man, Giorgio says, "I want you to kill Raphael."

I study him carefully, noting the hatred that rides on his words. "Only Luigi can give that order."

He spins around and faces forward. "No one needs to know who did it."

"Shoot a man without claiming responsibility?" I down what's left of my drink. "That'll make me a traitor and a coward. I'm neither."

Giorgio smiles, turning cold, hard eyes on me. "Fine. I'll just give you the order when I'm in charge then." He shoves his hands in his pockets and says as he saunters away, "It shouldn't take long. My father has one foot in the grave already."

I stare after him, a fucking volcano boiling up inside me.

"I'm going to get some pussy," he calls without looking back. "Coming?"

I don't bother to reply.

"Suit yourself," he says, taking the stairs to the upper floor where the private rooms are situated.

The minute he's out of sight, I fish my phone from my pocket and check Anya's location.

She's at the office.

I have bodyguards following her everywhere, but I fire off a message to double the men. My steps are urgent as I make my way to the underground parking lot.

From now on, Anya is going nowhere outside of her workplace without me. I have a good mind to make her resign from her job, but the problem is that she loves that job. It's important to her to earn her own money. Working at the firm makes her happy, and if she's happy, the baby is happy. If she's upset, so is the baby, and that's not good.

Breaking the speed limit, I drive to the Meatpacking District and park in the street in front of the firm. Before I've cut the engine, I've already taken stock of the surroundings. I've catalogued the windows in the building across the road a sniper may use. I've pinpointed my men—two at the top of the street and one across the road. I've noted the state issued car in front of the main entrance of the firm before a bulky man with a blond brush cut gets out.

Detective Jordan.

Anya opens the glass door and steps onto the sidewalk. A ray of sunlight that cuts through the buildings reflects the fiery red of her hair. The long, thick waves tumble around her shoulders, swaying as she looks left and right before climbing down the sidewalk. Her body is supple and toned, her small figure curvy in all the right places. Her beauty is fresh and unconventional. That face of a goddess is any artist's dream come true. She'll look amazing on canvas and on film.

I cross the road before she has time to advance. A driver honks his horn. I reach her in a few long strides, pulling her into the safety of my arms. She lets me hug her, but her slight figure is tense.

I kiss her lips, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away to cup her cheek. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," she says with a strained smile.

No, everything isn't fine. She'll tell me what's bothering her—I won't give her a choice—but we'll talk at home.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I keep Jordan in my sight as I lead her toward the traffic light on the corner. He comes around the car and leans on the side.

"No more jaywalking," I say, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. "Someone can run you over."

Jordan straightens when we near. I hold his gaze, pinning him with a killer look. If he came to see if I drive my girlfriend home after work, he got his answer.

He walks into our path and shoulders me with a shit-eating grin. "Have a nice day, De Luca."

Anya looks over her shoulder at him. "Who's that?"

The traffic light turns green.

"Just a guy I met briefly," I say, steering her over the road at the pedestrian crossing. "He's no one important."

She cranes her neck until he gets into his car and pulls into the traffic.

I open her door when we reach the Corvette. "Hop in. I have something to show you."

On impulse, I head toward the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town and park on the big parking lot. The guards who follow stop at the gates.

"What are we doing here?" Anya asks.

I cut the engine and throw her the keys. "I'm going to teach you how to drive."

Her eyes grow round.

I get out. "There's no risk of crashing into anything here. You don't have to be scared. I won't let anything happen to you or the baby."

"But—"

"Come on." I close the door and lean down to wink at her through the window. "If you get it right, I'll reward you when we get home."

I go around to her side, taking in the surroundings as I do. The guard who gets out of his car nods, indicating the coast is clear. No one tailed us.

Anya shoots me a questioning look when I open her door and help her out.

"Get into the driver's seat," I say even as I stand in her way, trapping her body against the car, because at the same time that I give the order, I'm reluctant to let her go.

She tilts her head up and frowns at me. "Why are you doing this?"

Goddamn. She looks so beautiful standing there. So vulnerable.

I cup her face between my palms, my gaze drilling into hers. "Listen to me. If anything happens to me, you take this car and you just drive." I shake her gently. "Do you hear me? You drive until you're as far away from here as you can get." She opens her mouth to say something, but I don't give her the chance. "There's a spare key in the safe behind my suits in the dressing room. The code is eighteen, zero, four. Your birthday. It's easy for you to remember. There's a bag with money. Don't pack. Don't think. Take the money and don't look back. Got it?"

"Sav," she whispers. "You're scaring me. Why are you saying this?"

"You know what kind of man I am. You know the life I lead."

"What's going on?"

"Just promise me you'll do that."

She utters an uncertain, "Okay."

"Good girl." I kiss her lips. "Now get behind the wheel. Let's have some fun."