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Chapter 1
Axel
It was a cold night, the fog flooding the cities and the streets. It pressed up against my window and masked the views of the Duomo lit up in the distance. The fire was in the hearth, hot like a summer desert that was unwelcome when my temperature already ran so high. My elbow was propped on the armrest, and I stared at nothing in particular, ignoring both my cigar and the drink on the table.
Theo sat with me, his cheek against his closed knuckles, his eyes on the fire.
I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so silence was fine by me.
Several days had passed, and Scarlett’s bruising had started to fade. It had been the worst the next day, all the signs of trauma amplified in the morning. It was hard to look at her, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because I knew how hard they’d hit her.
If she hadn’t been smart enough to drop her location, she’d be dead right now.
I’d be a fucking widower.
Theo turned his head slightly and looked at me.
My eyes shifted to meet his.
“We can cancel.”
I gave a slight shake of my head. “No. Life goes on.”
“I can just meet with him.”
“I’m not going to kill him.”
“You sure?”
My stare hardened. “Why do you think you’re here?”
“I’ll keep you on your best behavior.” The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “How is she?”
“She’s fine.” She didn’t complain about the pain. Did her best to cover it with makeup for my benefit—so I wouldn’t have to look at it. But the air between us had been tense, not just because of the shit that had gone down, but because I’d told her I loved her and forced her to acknowledge it. “She’s a tough woman.”
“I’m sure it gave her a reality check.”
“Yes…it did.” A single moment had changed her attitude about this world, given her a bitter taste of reality. While I was relieved she took it seriously, it also hurt to see the defeated look in her eyes. Her ambition was snuffed out like a low-burning candle…and now all that remained was the smoke.
Aldo entered the parlor. “Dante is here to see you, sir.”
I sucked in a slow breath. “Show him in.”
Aldo left to fetch my favorite person.
Theo grabbed his glass, shook the ice, and took a drink.
Dante entered a moment later, his face still discolored from the hits he’d taken. I hit him the hardest, making him slam against the wall and crumple to the floor like a rag doll. We hadn’t gotten along since the night he’d threatened me to stay away from his daughter, but that dislike had intensified into the strongest form of hate. He’d be dead right now if I didn’t love his daughter.
He looked at Theo longer than necessary as he took a seat. He unbuttoned his jacket before his eyes shifted to me. It was a simple look across the table, but the moment our eyes locked, there was a fiery exchange of rage.
Silence stretched, and so did the stare.
Theo broke the tension. “There will be no bloodshed tonight.” He grabbed a cigar and lit up. “Not when we have too much shit to do.” He puffed on the end a couple seconds, getting the ashes to burn at the tip and start to produce the flavorful smoke. “I’ve halted upcoming orders because production has stopped, so we need to mitigate this before it turns into a serious problem. You know how upset people get when they’re denied what they want.” He shifted his look back and forth between us.
I was slumped in the armchair, wearing my sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, my wife upstairs and unaware that her father had come for a visit. These meetings used to take place on his turf, but now that he was my bitch, they took place on mine.
Dante finally withdrew his gaze. “We’ll need to find another supplier. The Colombians won’t do business with us after we killed their men.”
