Chapter Nine

Cyrus pulled his phone out of his pocket so fast, he almost dropped it. A quick scroll through his contacts, and he hit Roman’s number. “I’m in my office. Is there something you forgot to tell me?” He said in Sicilian.

“Boss.” The shock was evident in Roman’s voice. “I didn’t realize you were due back yet. I thought…I got told…”

“The carpet.” Cyrus didn’t give a damn what Roman thought or was told. The process for dealing with assholes who hurt the family was very clear – make the kill quick, clean, and ensure no sign of the act was ever left for anyone to find. Even a child could remember something so basic.

“I tried, Boss, but Jimmy’s on holiday for two weeks. He won’t be back until Monday.”

Silently fuming, and conscious of Ness watching him intently, Cyrus said, still in Sicilian, “You didn’t think to remove the carpet that needed replacing, or did you think it was amusing to leave my office looking like a crime scene?”

“It was only until Monday, boss. It’s not like anyone goes in there except you.”

“Is that right?” Cyrus growled. “I’m standing in here right now with someone very dear to me.”

There was an audible gulp heard over the phone.

“You’ve let me down, Roman. Grab Jon and fix this, now.” Cyrus went to end the call when Roman’s voice came out in a rush.

“We can’t come near the hotel, Boss. I think the police are looking for us. I didn’t think we needed to tell you, because you told us to lay low, and we are, but there was a problem with Jon’s van when we were getting rid of the body, and then Tina called and said Chloe had gone on the run because she was so upset about her face, and then Mama called and she wanted Tina and Chloe home with her… Jon and I left the van in Rusty’s garage that got raided for drugs yesterday, and they impounded the van with the body in it, which was not our fault but…”

“Holy fucking kraken’s dick. You couldn’t have cocked that up any more than if you’d taken that asshole down to the middle of the casino and offed him on the roulette table.” Cyrus quickly glanced at Ness who was sitting with the same stony expression on his face. His mate was a shifter, he’d be able to hear Roman as clearly as Cyrus could. Which was why they were both speaking in Sicilian. “The whole lot of you need to get on my plane within the hour – everyone, Mama included. Get your asses back to Sicily and await my instructions.”

“But Mama’s got her bingo this afternoon. She’s going to be so upset…”

“She’s going to be even more upset if I take you out. You’ve got one hour, or I’ll come after you myself,” Cyrus said bluntly. “You begged for the chance to avenge your sisters’ honors. I understood. I granted you that favor so you could look your mama in the eyes again. And this is how you repay me? With your incompetence? I trusted you not to mess things up. Report to Stefan in Sicily and do not let me down again because it will be the last thing you do.”

Disconnecting the call, Cyrus gently blew out a long breath. “My apologies,” he said calmly in English. “There has been an issue. It happens in families sometimes. Perhaps we could go to my suite, and I can explain the situation more thoroughly?”

“What more needs to be explained, do you think? The way you discussed someone’s murder in front of me, or the fact that the men who did it were avenging their sisters’ honor?”

Cyrus’s mouth dropped open. Everything Ness said was spoken in flawless Sicilian. “Yes, I know the language. After three thousand years, there are very few dialects or languages I don’t know.”

Well shit. But Ness hadn’t finished. “I believe your first concern should be getting someone in to remove this carpet, right now in fact. I’m sure you have people who can do that. Then I want lunch, during which you can tell me the truth about your family and how the actions of your family aren’t considered criminal in your eyes. Because if you recall the day we met, you told me you definitely didn’t do anything illegal, and yet the last time I checked the law statutes in Nevada, I’m fairly sure being an accessory to murder is a criminal offense.”

For the first time in a very long time, Cyrus felt a shaft of fear – not about being caught for anything criminal, but because of the lack of expression in Ness’s voice. “Are you going to leave me?” he asked, barely believing he was asking the question, but they were the first words that spilled out of his mouth.

Ness shook his head. “That’s not what mates do to each other. But I do believe, as your mate, I have the right to hear the truth about the man I’m bound to for life, don’t you?”

All Cyrus could do was nod. He quickly lifted his phone again, tapping the number for his housekeeper. “I need a forensic clean of my office in ten minutes. Use the emergency code. Thank you.” Disconnecting as soon as he heard a positive response, Cyrus gave orders to the pilot to get his plane ready and then sent a text over the secure family network to Stefan in Sicily, letting him know ten packages needed picking up in eighteen hours’ time.

Through it all, Ness just sat in silence, watching him. “Is there anything in particular you want for lunch?” Cyrus asked, his finger hovering over the button for the kitchen.

There was a flicker of something – some emotion Cyrus couldn’t identify – that passed over Ness’s face. “I’d like one of your finest marbled steaks, medium well, dressed with a creamy mushroom sauce, a baked potato with garlic butter, and a side salad of apples, yellow peppers, and zucchini with no dressing. Thank you.”

Considering Cyrus wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything, he ordered two of the same meal to be delivered to his room as quickly as possible. “If you’d like to come with me, I can show you our suite.”

Ness gave a pointed look at the stain on the carpet before standing and following Cyrus to the door. Cyrus had a feeling that all of the mistakes he’d ever made in his life were about to bite him squarely on the ass.

/~/~/~/~/

Ness didn’t hold his hand on what felt the endless trip back to the elevator, in the elevator, and up to the suite. Cyrus decorated the whole top floor of his hotel for his personal use. If someone asked for a penthouse suite in any of his hotels they were always situated on the second to top floor, regardless of how high the building was. In Cyrus’s head, it was another way of proving his status to others, but he didn’t get any pleasure at the sight of his ornately decorated entranceway or the feeling of the softness of his plush carpet as he removed his shoes at the door. It did warm his heart, a little bit, when Ness did the same, setting his shoes next to Cyrus’s.

“The master bedroom is down the hall that way,” Cyrus pointed to his right. “There’s also a gym and a private pool down that way. The living quarters are this way, along with a full kitchen, but I usually find it easier to order meals from the downstairs kitchen. Dry cleaning and laundry is picked up at eight each morning when we’re here, and the household staff comes through every afternoon between one and two. I’m usually out that time of day, allowing them to work uninterrupted.”

Ness nodded, but was still silent as they went through to Cyrus’s dining room. Ness took a seat at the table, but Cyrus was still on edge and went into the kitchen. “I’ll put some coffee on,” he said, grabbing some mugs and switching his machine on. “What do you think of this place? We get a lot of light with the wide windows, and it’s all fully soundproofed so that the noise from the Strip and the casino downstairs is never a problem.”

“It’s very stylish,” Ness said quietly. “The lack of blood on the carpet is a bonus.”

O-kay. Ness clearly wasn’t in the mood for small talk. The problem was that Cyrus, for all his animal’s instincts in being able to sense emotions and vibes from people ten, twenty, or even fifty feet away, couldn’t get a handle on what Ness was thinking or feeling. It was as if his ancient mate had managed to block him in some way, and that was making Cyrus nervous.

The coffee was made too quickly. Cyrus kept reminding himself that Ness was his mate. He just needed to be introduced into Cyrus’s world slowly. At least, that’s what Cyrus had thought while they were in Scotland. Yes, Ness needed to know, and over time he would come to understand why Cyrus lived by the code he did. But the blood-splattered carpet was like slapping Ness around the face with the type of life Cyrus found perfectly normal.

“I’m sure there have been times in your life when you’ve gone through or experienced torrid times,” he said, keeping his voice even as he put the coffee mugs on the table, and sat opposite his mate. His shark wanted closeness, wanted to pull the bigger man into his arms, but with the whole mental/bond blocking thing going on, Cyrus needed to see Ness’s face.

“My first memories were of poverty, death, and the importance of family honor. My late father was someone who didn’t believe in sparing the rod, and I learned five different ways of how to kill a man before I learned to read or write. Shifters weren’t out then, so we had to hide who we were, which meant using weapons to instill respect in others.” Cyrus shook his head at the memories. “For the longest time, I honestly believed everyone was raised that way.”

“I imagine you were born in Europe and definitely there was a sharp class distinction during the Middle Ages that defined how a person lived,” Ness said quietly. “If your family was of the laborer class, you wouldn’t have had a lot of opportunity to do much else but work the land unless your late father was skilled in a trade.”

“Yes, well, I am not sure where you were during that time, but believe me, when you’re living on a small island, the impact of the outside world was minimal, at least where I lived. The late Middle Ages is when the whole idea of the mafia was born, and believe me, it was alive and well where I lived.” Cyrus made a conscious effort to push the bitterness out of his tone. “Ancient history so they say, and it was, at least to me. Let’s just say I was raised to believe that family was everything, and that there were two forms of governance – one that sought to suppress the commonfolk and one for the families.”

“I understand that,” Ness said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, “but from all I’ve read about the mafia and similar organizations over the years, why did they have to be rooted in criminal activities?”

“How else was a man expected to retain his independence and still put food on the table?” Cyrus shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s right. But I know there was not one child raised in a criminal family who went hungry. How many people could say that throughout history?”