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I close my eyes and envision her splayed across the couch when I snuck into her home last night. It took every ounce of willpower not to shove the hem of that little black dress up to her waist, rip her panties off and dive into that warm pussy.
Because despite her protestations, I know she’d be wet and eager for my cock. That little Miss Maisy has a naughty side, I’m certain of it. And I can’t wait to drag it out of her.
A door creaks open at the end of the alley, drawing my attention from thoughts of Maisy to the matter at hand. My meeting with Qian Guo, the third leg of the infamous Triad, and the head of the Four Seas. They’ve been making strategic moves into the Lower East Side for the past few months, pushing their way into Red Dragon territory. The three gangs that make up the Chinese Triad are no more stable than the Italian families who rule Manhattan.
Each alliance is as tenuous as a spider's silk, delicately woven to maintain a fragile balance between power, distrust, and the ever-present threat of betrayal in the ruthless underworld we navigate.
And I’m moments away from annihilating that delicate balance.
The guy at the door wears navy blue from head to toe, only a tiny slit showing his dark eyes, and a cowl covering his head. He motions for me to enter, and I follow him into the old brick building.
Qian Guo sits atop a velvet settee in the center of the sprawling warehouse with three scantily clad women draped over his broad form. House music blares in the background, and I’m not sure if I’ve walked into an underground night club or a business meeting. Qian’s bald head glistens beneath the dim light, a long, black braid plaited down his shoulder. The sight is so at odds with what I’d expected, my mask of composure must slip.
A slow smile crawls across his thin lips as he regards me. “You must have been expecting my father.” He slaps one of the females on the ass, mutters something in Mandarin, and the three of them scamper away.
I counter his bemused expression with a tight grin of my own. “I was.”
“Be assured my word is as good as my sire’s. He’s long been waiting to retire, and the time is now upon us.”
“I would love to hear it from his own lips.”
Qian nods into a dark corner, and a form peels away from the shadows. Another male in all navy marches into the light holding an ornate silver box. The metal glimmers beneath the hanging pendant as he hands it over to the big male.
Qian pulls a necklace from underneath his muscle shirt and reveals a small silver key. Sliding it into the slot in the box, a hidden door opens. He slowly turns the metal container toward me, and it takes every ounce of that carefully honed control to keep my expression neutral.
The elder Qian Guo stares back at me, eyes vacant, and mouth twisted into a look of pure horror.
Mother fucker. The Triad psycho is keeping his dead father’s head in a box?
I clear my throat and tug at my collar. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up things in my day, but to murder your own father? I can’t say I never thought of it, or even dreamt of it more than once. To see the great Umberto Valentino begging for mercy as I press a knife to his throat while I force him to confess all his dirty secrets… God that would have been so satisfying. But even I wasn’t capable of patricide.
“As you can see, Nico, my word is as good as my father’s.” Qian’s voice draws me back to the present.
“Your word might be, but clearly your manners are not, Mr. Guo.”
He nods slowly. “My apologies, Mr. Rossi. I meant no disrespect. I’m simply trying to modernize this ancient organization I now find myself at the head of.”
No wonder there’s been rumors of the Four Seas taking over Red Dragon turf. This new power has gone to Qian’s head. I’m not sure I want to be involved with a loose cannon novice. Then again, the guy’s got balls.
“Now, shall we get down to business, Mr. Rossi?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, contemplating my options. The Kings have allied themselves with the Red Dragons and together, they could challenge all the headway I’ve made in lower Manhattan. An alliance with the weakest members of the Triad, Hao Wei’s Golden Star, wouldn’t help me at all. Their hold on the outer boroughs is tenuous at best, and the mainland is all that truly matters anyway.
Qian is my best option at finally destroying the Kings.
Gritting my teeth, I mutter, “That’s what we’re here for, right?”
I stand outside the urgent care center, waiting like a fucking fool. Normally, I would barge right in there and check on Maisy, but with patient confidentiality and all that bullshit, I can’t risk it. Sullying the Gemini Corp CEO’s name is not something I can afford right now. Not when I’ve come so far.
Marco and I have investors to please, a shit ton of loans to repay and our entire future riding on the success of the company. We built it from the ground up, hoarding away every last penny. I lucked out in college when I discovered I had a thing for coding. I developed a high-tech security app with a simple cell phone interface. It was cheap and easy to use, and the average Joe ate it up. With Marco’s smooth-talking charm, he sold the shit out of it. A year later, one of the big players in the security industry bought it and suddenly, we went from working two part time jobs to scrounge our way through college to a substantial nest egg.
We used that money to start Gemini Corp, in an industry I purposely picked to compete against the Kings. I lied earlier, Maisy technically wasn’t the first person I’d stalked. I’d spent countless years in the shadows collecting intel on my half-brothers.
My father, I barely knew.
When Mamma sent us here from Italy, we were only kids. She’d banked on the deluded assumption that Papà would welcome us into his family. Spoiler alert: it never happened. Instead, we spent a year with my Ma’s second cousin and when she died, we ended up in foster care. It took me years to find the asshole who’d abandoned us. Mamma had never given us a name, nothing. By the time I figured it out, Umberto Valentino was dead and gone.
But I did find Dante and Luca.
