Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The tension is thick, Marcello’s violent appetite coming to the surface as he paces my office floor, wearing out the carpet, his hands clenched behind his back.
My brother sits in the chair Carlo favored earlier tonight wearing the same suit jacket he’s been wearing all week, stains splashed up the sleeves. His dark hair is greasy and parted in the middle.
He’s an embarrassment. “Are you going to say something or just scold me with your disapproving glare?” he slurs out.
Moving across the room like a feral beast, Marcello scoops him up by the lapels of his jacket. “Do you know how much damage you caused tonight? You’re reckless and a disgrace to your name.”
He drops him back into his chair, rubbing his hands down his sweater, wiping the remnants of Antonio’s scum off.
“You’re a mess, little brother. And you created unnecessary issues with those fires tonight.”
“I didn’t set them myself. Could have been vandals.” He throws his shoulders up like this is all a joke.
“No, you’re not man enough to do the dirty work yourself. You ordered our men to do it for you.” Marcello swipes a hand over his mouth.
“Luca wasn’t going to do anything.” He flings his arms out in my direction.
“Because Serena’s murder has nothing to do with the Blaydon brothers building sex clubs in the city!” I bellow, gripping the arms of my chair to stop myself from wringing his neck.
“So, we pay for the damage or tell them to fuck off,” he muses, thinking because it’s his mistake it will be overlooked.
My fingers twitch. Marcello balls his fist and plows it into Antonio’s jaw. The impact twists his face as he slams back in his chair, hitting the floor.
“Enough!” I stand, rounding the desk.
Antonio is on his feet in an instant, the punch sobering him up. “You will pay for the damages.” I tilt my head, studying him. He glares at Marcello, his breathing heavy.
“I will deal with the brothers. In the meantime, you’re going to get clean so you can start thinking straight again.” I warn him.
Spitting blood at Marcello’s feet, Antonio jabs a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever fucking hit me again.”
Shoving him away Marcello retorts, “Don’t make me hit you again.”
A heavy silence looms like a thunder cloud, before Antonio wipes his forearm across his bloody mouth storming from the room with one last look at Marcello over his shoulder.
Once he’s gone, I grab a bottle and a glass before taking my seat behind my desk again. “What now?” Marcello asks, flexing his fingers.
“Get me a meeting with the Blaydon brothers.”
“Are you sure you want to take the blame for the fires? We could go with the vandals route.”
Drumming my fingers on the desk, I shake my head. “Let’s get in front of this. We don’t need small problems becoming bigger ones.” I tell him, my attention turning to my computer screen.
With a firm nod of his head, he swipes his hand through his hair and makes a move toward the door. “Send Thomas in, will you?” I call after him.
Tapping my fingers over my keyboard, I bring up the staff list for Vinos and tap on the file for the person I haven’t been able to get off my mind since seeing them tonight.
A minute later Thomas enters the room, his suit coming to stand at the opposite side of my desk, “Sir?” He asks.
I save the file to a memory stick and hand it to him. “Find out everything there is to know about this person.”
Slipping the memory stick into his slacks pocket he bows his head, “Yes, sir.”
Sitting back in my chair, I grab for the glass of whiskey, telling myself it’s intrigue and not jealously pushing my actions as I glare at the picture ID on the screen—the one I’d copied for Thomas.
Simon Greene.
Chapter Eighteen
Alyssa
A light sheen of mist coats my skin from the routine we’ve been repeating for the last three hours, “Lift,” Michael snaps out, with a sharp tongue full of scrutiny, “Enough.” He holds a hand up dismissing us with a grunt.
Jewel walks beside me to the shower rooms, her eyes flitting toward me. “What is it?” I sigh, stopping just outside the door, too tired to deal with her drama or bitchy attitude.
“I noticed Michael paired you with Nathanial today.”
Nathanial is a great dancer, tall and strong. I trust him to lift me and feel at ease with him.“And?”
She thins her lips, folding her tiny arms over her flat chest. “I’ve been working with him.”
“Jewel, I’m just doing as I’m told—not trying to steal your boyfriend. If you have an issue, take it up with Michael.”
Nathanial and I had chemistry on the floor, I’m not going to give that up because of her fragile ego.
“Like you could steal my boyfriend.” She huffs, narrowing her eyes.