Chapter 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Saverio

T ersia insisted that the baby shower should happen at her place, which is why I’m having fucking tea with Richard while Livy, Tersia, and a bunch of women from the prenatal class are gathered around Anya in a sunroom that overlooks the backyard and the pool.

I’m perched on a chair in the lounge from where I have a clear view of the party through the floor-to-ceiling windows that encase the sunroom. The women are talking and laughing while handing Anya gifts to open. The room is decorated with white and yellow flowers. As Anya doesn’t want to know the gender of the baby before the birth, her friends bought all the gifts in white. Minuscule baby clothes—also in white—hang from pegs on a potted tree. The branches are decorated with rattles, baby bottles, and soft toys. Cupcakes topped with fluffy white icing sugar are stacked on a three-tier cake stand. Platters that contain a selection of cucumber sandwiches, mini quiches, and every savory snack under the sun are laid out on a big table with an embroidered white tablecloth.

Anya sits amidst all of it, looking more gorgeous than ever in a fitted white dress that shows off her rounded belly. Her red hair hangs in glossy waves down her back. There’s a glow to her skin and a healthy color on her cheeks. The freckles that dust her nose are a paler shade of apricot, maybe because we’re in the middle of winter and haven’t seen much sun. Her honey-colored eyes sparkle with that mysterious light of women who guard a precious secret. I’ve only ever seen that look on women who are pregnant or in love. I swear she’s never looked more beautiful, but I say that with every passing month.

“She’s not going anywhere, you know,” Richard says.

I turn my face to where he sits with his legs crossed and a teacup in his hand that he balances on his knee.

A knowing smile curves his lips. “You’re besotted with her. You haven’t stopped staring since you arrived.”

I clench my jaw. Not having Anya in my sight doesn’t sit right with me. That’s why I drove her here and invited myself to stay. I have enough men stationed around the house to ward off an army in the unlikely event of an attack. For the sake of the guests, I ordered them to stay out of sight. I don’t want to freak out a whole lot of pregnant women.

My reply is dry. “I like what I see.”

Richard chuckles. “You can’t make that more obvious. You do realize it’s generally considered that a baby shower is for women only.”

I put my cup aside, the Earl Grey with a slice of lemon untouched. “Why should it discriminate?” As far as I’m concerned, men are just as invested in whatever the fuck the purpose of a baby shower is .

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe for the same reason we don’t invite our wives to a stag night.”

That’s bullshit too. What’s the point of being together if you’re going to do things separately? When I go out, I always want Anya with me. I’d rather be home with her than getting shitfaced with a group of guys I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about.

“You may be one of those men who advocate for healthy space and all that shit, but I’m with Anya because I want to be with her. I don’t need excuses to escape her presence.”

“Touché,” Richard says, swinging his leg. “If it makes you feel better, we’re all pussy-wacked in the beginning. It wears off over time. You’ll get to that point where you need a little breather. Trust me.”

I don’t fucking think so. I’ll never get enough of Anya. Unable to stand another minute of the meaningless conversation, I push to my feet.

He follows the action with his gaze, craning his neck to meet my eyes. “It doesn’t mean you love her less.”

When has love even entered the equation? Most men don’t know what the word means. This is bigger than a short-lived infatuation that wears off like a favorite T-shirt eventually loses its color.

“Balance is important,” he continues, measuring me with that smirk on his face as if he finds my obsession interesting or entertaining.

Whatever. I let him think what he wants. The only reason I don’t smash that dainty teacup in his face is because I don’t want to spoil the day for Anya. She deserves the fuss everyone makes about her. It’s about time she’s the center of attention, and I don’t mean my attention. Despite my urge to walk into that room and pull her onto my lap, I want her to have what her mother never gave her. Every girl needs to be fussed over a little in her life. Livy is good at that. Women in general are. They’re natural nurturers. Well, some of them at least. The fact that Anya’s mother isn’t here speaks volumes. The woman did never ask to see her daughter after the day I left her with my threats. Just as well. Anya is better off without her.

Just as Richard opens his mouth to spew something else that’s no doubt going to make me gag, my phone rings. I take it from my pocket. It’s Dante.

“Excuse me.” I walk to the door. “I have to take this.”

I answer the call when I’m far enough down the hallway to be out of earshot. “You better have a good excuse for interrupting Anya’s baby shower.”

Dante’s voice is terse. “There’s been a raid at After Dark.”

What the fuck? “I thought we had an understanding with the cops on that beat.”

“DEA.”

Bristling, I gnash my teeth. “Who the fuck authorized it?”

“Luigi is looking into it.”

They wouldn’t find any drugs on my site. The only reason they’d search the club is to ruffle our feathers.

I hang up with, “I’m on my way.”

When I get back to the lounge, Richard is reading a newspaper.

He motions at the stack that’s neatly fanned out on the coffee table like a deck of cards. “Want one?”

He finally accepted conversation isn’t going to work between us.

Not bothering to answer, I lean a shoulder on the door frame and study my girl. She takes the gift that Livy hands her and smiles so beautifully my heart fucking aches. She shakes the parcel wrapped in white paper and tied with a yellow ribbon, presumably trying to guess what’s inside. She says something at which everyone laughs. It strikes me then how rarely I see her like this. Happy.

“Still like what you see?” Richard asks, his tone either teasing or mocking—I can’t be sure, and I don’t care.

“It’s going to be a boy,” I muse.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve read if a woman carries low, it’s a boy. Plus, I’ve got this feeling.”

“What does she think?” he asks.

“She thinks it’s a girl.”

“It’s a girl for us.”

“Yeah, Anya told me.”

“It makes the preparations easier. At least we know what colors to buy.”

See, there’s another gender tradition I don’t believe in. Who decided it’s blue for boys and pink for girls?

“When is Tersia’s baby shower?” I ask.

“She doesn’t want to have one. She’s happy to do this for Anya, but it’s not her cup of tea.”

My reply is a grunt.

I push off the door frame and walk to the sunroom. The women look up when I open the door. With the first wet snow coming down outside, the flower beds and the lawn are mucky, but the picture is still pretty. Despite the cold outside, the room is nice and cozy. Warm.

I go over to Anya and press a kiss on her forehead. The smile that tugs at my lips when I straighten feels a lot like the room—soft and warm. It’s a foreign sentiment for me, but I don’t show her how much that scares me.

“I’m going to meet with Dante, tesoro . I’ll pick you up later.”

“Take your time,” Tersia says. “We haven’t even started the tea party. We won’t be done before six or seven. ”

Anya frowns. We’re too much in tune with one another. She senses that something is wrong. I didn’t want to worry her, but I wasn’t going to leave without telling her.

I cup her cheek with a reassuring caress before I walk from the room.

When I arrive at After Dark almost forty-five minutes later—thanks to traffic—destruction greets me. Broken bottles litter the floor, the spilled liquid lying in puddles between shards of glass. The bar shelves are empty save for a few bottles that are tipped onto their sides. Glasses are smashed to pieces on the counter. The space smells of coconut liquor and the smoky vanilla scent of whisky. The day manager stands to the side, observing the mess with his hands on his hips and his head hanging between his shoulders.

Rage rises inside me. I push it down, squeezing the manager’s shoulder in passing as I say in a level voice, “Get this cleaned up.”

He looks at me as if noticing me for the first time and nods.

I climb the stairs. Two portraits have been ripped from the wall. They lie face-down on the floor in the gallery. Tables and chairs are overturned. A few girls who were working the upstairs rooms huddle together in robes.

“Any arrests?” I ask.

“Tammy and Chucky,” the redhead says. “They were with clients.” She jerks her chin at her friends. “We were just hanging out.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

They nod, trusting me to do so because I always do what I say.

“Take the day off.” I tilt my head toward the dressing room. “Grab some clothes and get out of here. I’ll make sure you’re paid for your hours. ”

They shuffle away, their gazes trained on the floor. The strippers and hookers like to work here because, up to now, we’ve had an infallible reputation. No raids. No arrests. No touching unless the girls authorize it. Whatever they earn is theirs. We don’t take a cut. It’s only fair, seeing that we profit from the business they bring in, and they bring in a lot of men who like to spend big money on drinks. Working hours are flexible and completely at their discretion. On top of that, we pay them a flat rate for the legal part of the business, which is dancing.

Luigi and Giorgio wait with Dante in the office. I grit my teeth when I spot Raphael leaning on my desk. The state of the office is no better than downstairs. Files and papers tile the floor. Both desks have been wiped clean. At least there weren’t any laptops to confiscate because we’re not stupid enough to keep any on site.

I rub a hand over my mouth, turning in a circle as I take in the chaos.

No one speaks. Dante lowers his head, watching me from under his eyelashes. Raphael smirks. Luigi sits behind the desk, looking like a dragon that’s blowing smoke from his nostrils.

I face Giorgio, who rolls an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“What the fuck happened?” I ask. “Did the local office get a new chief? And if that’s the case, how come we didn’t know about it?”

Luigi picks up a newspaper and throws it on the corner of the desk. “Justice Kearney happened.”

My spine goes stiff. I walk over and look at the newspaper. It’s folded open on the gossip columns. Fuck. Someone who was there that night ran straight to the tabloids. Now everyone knows what unfolded at the restaurant .

“Care to explain that?” Luigi asks, squinting at me through narrowed eyes.

Murderous intent boils my blood. “He’s behind the raid?”

Luigi intertwines his fingers on the desktop. “I just got confirmation from my informant. Justice Kearney called in a favor with his friends at the DEA.” He lets that sink in for a moment. “You screwed up, Sav.”

Giorgio perches on the armrest of the sofa and says around the cigarette in his mouth, “You didn’t tell us Anya is pregnant.”

No, I purposefully kept her away from them during the last few months, always ensuring we left before one of them got here in the evening or working from home when they were here during the day.

Raphael laughs. “Fuck me. Your girlfriend is pregnant with the justice’s baby.”

I turn on him. “One more word from your mouth and your head will be rolling on this floor.”

He raises his hands and shuts his mouth, his lips pulling into a mocking smile.

A muscle ticks in my jaw. “I’ll deal with it.”

“How?” Luigi asks.

“By showing him what happens when he fucks with me.”

Giorgio takes a lighter from his pocket. “Did he give up his paternal rights?”

I snatch the cigarette from his mouth before he can light it and throw it in the trashcan. “What the fuck do you think?”

Giorgio only grins. “You shouldn’t wash your dirty laundry in public. It puts us in the spotlight.”

“We especially don’t want a spotlight on Obsidian right now,” Luigi grumbles .

I look at him. “Why’s that?”

He glances at Raphael before saying, “We’re moving some merchandise through there.”

That, right there, is the reason I didn’t want to get mixed up with the Morellis.

“Are you fucking crazy?” I ask Raphael. “Do you want a war with the cartels running the area? We have an agreement with them. You know what happens when you break it.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid of a war, De Luca.”

“You’re not afraid of sacrificing men, you mean.” I advance on him. “I don’t give a fuck if you allow a cartel to wipe out your whole team, but I do care about ours.”

“It won’t come to that,” Luigi says. “We just have to be careful.” He pins me with a look. “Which is why you’re going to clean up your mess and soon.”

I point a finger at Raphael. “Do what you want at Obsidian, but your drugs stay the fuck away from here. Got that?”

He raises his palms again. “Loud and clear.”

“Good,” I say, shouldering him as I turn for the door.

“Sav,” Luigi calls.

I stop and look over my shoulder.

“When you go for Kearney, take Giorgio with you.”

To babysit me? To make sure I do as I’m told? I gnash my teeth, but I can’t say no to a direct order.

I spin on my heel and walk from the room.

Dante catches up with me on the stairs.

“Sav.” He grabs my arm. “Fuck, man. You could’ve told us about Anya.”

I pull free and continue on my way. “It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. Besides, our private lives are nobody’s business. ”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He walks fast to keep up with my brisk pace. “You know it. Nothing is private when it comes to the family.”

I ignore that.

“What are you going to do about Kearney?” he asks.

I ignore that question too.

“He’s got a vendetta against you now,” Dante continues. “His wife is leaving him. His children want nothing to do with him. His family is breaking apart.”

“Good,” I drawl.

“That makes him dangerous. Men with nothing left to lose are the worst enemies.”

“I know how it works. I don’t need a lecture from you.”

“Do you need him to disappear? I can arrange an accident.”

I pause to face him. “I don’t need someone else to clean up my mess. I’ll handle it.”

“’Kay.” He doesn’t seem convinced. “Anya is doing a great job with the books.”

“But?”

“But if I were you, I’d marry her sooner than later.”

I don’t miss the warning in his words. She has too many enemies on both sides of the law. Both Luigi and Kearney have strong motives for wanting her gone. Marriage is the best way of protecting her, but of everyone who means her harm, I’m sure she considers me her biggest enemy. And when it comes to my intentions of making her my hostage forever, she’d be right.

I drive back to Tersia and Richard’s place and wait in the car until Tersia sends me a message to say they’re done. Small groups of women file through the front door, talking and laughing. Tersia and Anya exit arm in arm, and then Livy steps out. The old lady exchanged the hot-pink dress in which she arrived for black leggings and a red hoodie. Her long gray hair is braided and twisted into a bun on her head. A large green tote bag hangs from her shoulder. After giving Anya a hug, she crosses the road.

I get out of the car and make my way over before Livy turns the corner. “Need a ride?”

She looks around with a big smile. “I’m meeting my tai chi group in the park for a moonlight session, but thanks.”

I frown. “Is that safe?”

She says with the same kind of patience that a teacher would address a primary school pupil, “I’m with martial art gurus, Sav.”

I nod. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.”

She winks, waves, and skips off.

Shaking my head, I take my phone from my pocket and text one of the men stationed nearby to keep an eye on her just in case. Then I jog back to the house to meet Anya.

Richard wheels a cart loaded with gifts onto the patio. He tilts his head toward the Corvette. “You may need a bigger car to fit all this.”

I catch the gaze of the driver who waits two cars down the street. “I came prepared.”

Kevin runs up on stiff legs and takes the cart from Richard. While he loads the mountain of gifts into the trunk and onto the backseat, I brush a kiss over Anya’s temple.

“Did you have fun?” I whisper.

She smiles at me, but apprehension sparks in her pretty eyes. “Yes.”

I thank Tersia for the arrangements, say goodbye to Richard, and usher Anya to my car.

Once we’re in the traffic, she turns on her seat to face me. “What happened? ”

I don’t take my gaze off the road. “Who says anything happened?”

“I know you, Saverio De Luca. You wouldn’t have left if there weren’t an emergency.”

I can lie to her, but there’s enough secrets between us as it is. “Kearney instigated a raid on After Dark.”

“What?” she exclaims.

I steal a quick glance at her. “Apparently, I pissed him off.”

“No kidding,” she says, narrowing her eyes in a cute way. “So he retaliated by taking revenge?”

I clench my jaw. “He picked a fight with the wrong man.”

“What are you going to do?”

I think about that. “I’m going to tell him to stay the hell away from us. He obviously didn’t understand me the first time. I’ll have to make my point clearer.”

“Are you going to kill him?” she asks in a small voice.

My hackles rise. “Would it bother you if I did?”

“Yes,” she says softly.

I slam on the brakes and pull off the road, parking on the curb. Clenching the wheel hard, I face her. “Why? Because you care about what happens to him?”

“I don’t want another murder on my conscience.”

Her words still me. “Lewis’s death wasn’t your fault.”

“I knew something was wrong. He was acting strange. I could’ve stopped him from leaving. I could’ve prevented what happened if I’d finished working when he told me to and walked to the subway with him.”

Gripping her face, I splay my fingers over her cheeks. “Nothing you could’ve done would’ve stopped what happened. You couldn’t prevent it. Lewis signed his death warrant when he stole that money, and that’s the end of the story. You will not blame yourself, do you hear me? ”

She nods in my hold, but the act isn’t convincing.

I caress her jaw, tracing the delicate line with my thumb before letting her go.

“Promise me,” she whispers. “Please, Sav.”

Fuck. I can’t deny her. Not when she begs.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she says, putting her hand on my thigh. “Kearney isn’t just anybody. He’s a justice. Who’s going to be your alibi this time, huh? You may not be so lucky again.”

Yes, she’s definitely my lucky charm. And fuck me if her concern doesn’t turn my insides into mush.

I cup her hand where it rests on my leg. “I won’t kill him.”

She lets out an audible breath. “Thank you.”

But I am going to make him pay for what he did to my girl.