Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My security guards lead him out.
Once, not so long ago, he had power.
Then Matteo and Lorenzo squashed him like a bug.
A part of me feels bad. After all, he was trying to go legit. But a bigger part knows he’s full of shit.
Like most of my clients, men like him might say they are trying to go legit, but it’s really a front.
Take Tobias, for example. No way will he ever really be out of the game.
Look at Alaric, Matteo, and Cyrus. They’re married and starting families of their own. They still get involved with illegal shit all the time, even if they technically aren’t working in the same capacity anymore.
Pulling out my cell, I call my brother-in-law.
He answers on the first ring.
“What?” the prick says.
“Hello to you, too, Cyrus.”
“I’m busy, Trent.” He sighs. “Unless this is important—”
“It is,” I cut him off.
My relation to his wife is the only reason he allows me this luxury of speaking back to him and keeping my life.
“Speak.”
“Paul was here. He’s on to us. He knows we shorted his stock.” Standing from my desk, I begin to move to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“How?”
I take in the city. As if New York will have the answers I need.
“Not sure.”
He groans, clearly annoyed by this new information. “I thought you handled this.”
“I did. I bought everything with our offshore accounts. It’s not traceable.”
The line is silent.
Cyrus is probably thinking about what I said.
Finally, he says, “Well, obviously, it is.”
I nod despite him not being able to see me. “That’s for sure.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“He said he knows everything.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes.” I know his next question will be how, so I beat him to it. “Honestly, I don’t think it stems from my office. The shorting of the stock is pretty obvious if you know who tampered. If he thinks it’s Lorenzo and has proof of it, it’s not a far jump to make the conclusion that the men in charge of Lorenzo’s finances shorted the stock.”
And that unlucky fucker is me.
“We need to tell Lorenzo and Tobias someone spoke within their ranks,” Cyrus says.
“Yep.”
“Fuck!”
The sound of a glass hitting a table echoes through the line.
“Exactly.”
“There’s a traitor in their house.”
Not a question. A statement.
“Seems that way.”
“Talk to Lorenzo. I’ll speak to Tobias.” There’s a pause as he talks to someone. My sister. He assures her it’s okay, even though we’ve just made her life a hell of a lot more dangerous. “Make sure nothing is traceable,” he orders, returning to our conversation once Ivy leaves. “He can speculate all he wants. As long as it doesn’t trace it back to us, it will be fine.”
He hangs up, and now I have to make a phone call I dread.
Lorenzo Amanté is not a friend. He’s a client who I took on after Matteo Amanté stepped down from his role in the family business.
His role being straight out of The Godfather.
The man ran the whole mafia.
But after Matteo stepped down, his cousin Lorenzo took his place.
Now he runs the whole fucking show while Matteo runs the legitimate side of things.
I can barely believe that this is where my life went after what my father did, but I don’t regret it.
I like the power.
Even if it comes with scary motherfuckers on speed dial.
I hit the call button and wait for Lorenzo to answer.
“Aldridge.”
“I need to see you.”
We’re a lovely bunch, us two. Full of manners and good vibes.
“Well, that sounds ominous,” he clips out, and I think I hear a muffled gunshot in the background before he returns to the conversation at hand. “Did you lose all my money? Because if you did—”
“I know. I know. You won’t be happy,” I taunt, knowing full well he would probably cut off my hands if that happened.
“Understatement of the year. I’d be lethal.” His comment would be funny if it weren’t accurate. Death would be too easy for the man or woman who stole from this man.
“Got it. No. The money’s still there.”
My mouth twitches with amusement. This is one sick fucker. I’m happy to have him on my side.
“So, spit it out.” His voice is the usual cool tone that I’ve grown used to over the past few years since Matteo introduced us.
“I’ll tell you in person,” I say to him.
“Even more ominous.”
He laughs, figures he would―again, sick as fuck. The sketchier or more dangerous a situation is, the more entertained Lorenzo is.
“When are you free?”
“Tonight. Seven. Meet me at the dock.”
He doesn’t have to tell me which dock he means. It’s the main one they have been using ever since they switched locations after that shit went down with Salvatore, Matteo, and Lorenzo’s cousin.
“I’ll be there.”
I hang up first. Looking down at my watch, I see it’s only four, which means I can’t go home first.
It’s fine.
There is plenty of work for me to do before I make this meeting. When I add in the commute, I don’t have that much time at all.