Page 7 of Captivated

“You’re never going to get over that little incident from years ago, are you, Lucian?” Damian asked.

“I don’t kill one of you every time someone from the Outfit comes into my city,” Lucian replied, “and so if I were you, I would take that as a win.”

Damn.

Seemed this man didn’t pull any fucking punches.

“We do consider that as a win, actually,” Damian returned easily.

“Play nice, Lucian,” Dante said. And then to Damian just as quickly, he added, “We should take this conversation inside. The girls were heading to the store for … well, junk food and whatever else. I don’t think we need to be on the steps discussing business when they get back shortly.”

“Agreed,” Damian said.

As they climbed the last couple of steps, and the Marcello mansion was opened to them, Lucian Marcello glanced back at Joe with a grin that came off as altogether cold, and just a little bit sly. Joe rarely found himself put on edge by someone else. He just wasn’t the type, and he was usually the one with his linebacker size, towering height, and silent nature to make people feel nervous.

This change was strange for him.

Entirely unsettling.

“Welcome to New York, Joe,” Lucian said, his smile fading in a grim line, “I certainly hope you’re worth the amount of money I am about to pay for you.”

What?

“Fair warning,” Damian said as he took a seat across from the large oak desk Dante rested behind, “he doesn’t know why he’s here. I figured it best to let him in on the secret when it was needed.”

Joe shot his father a look from where he stood in the corner—the other chairs in the room were already taken, and only a seat with the back facing the window remained. He was not a stupid man, and he was not about to put his back to a window in a house he wasn’t familiar with, not to mention around men he wasn’t sure if he could fully trust.

Dante glanced over at Lucian, asking, “Do you want to start this, or should I?”

“You’re the boss, brother,” Lucian replied.

“And this is—”

“You’re the boss.”

Joe stiffened a bit as the two men passed a look between each other while everyone else stayed quiet. He could never imagine interrupting his boss without some kind of action for disobedience, but clearly there was a different kind of relationship with these brothers. They were made men, sure, but family still held a firm line where it counted.

Dante nodded, and pushed his chair back just enough to open a drawer in the desk. Pulling out a file, he tossed it on the desk, and then gestured to Joe. “Go on, pick it up, Rossi.”

He moved away from the wall with footsteps that didn’t make a sound, and plucked up the folder. Opening it, he scanned the contents, and then flipped through the items inside. Pictures of older men stared back at him—details of them, and their life. Their careers, too.

One, a politician—George Earl. Republican senator for the state of New York. Joe remembered him winning by a landslide during the last election.

Another, a Chief of Police for the city of New York. A man by the name of Martin Abraham. Joe didn’t recognize him as well as the first man, but his title was more than enough to make Joe hesitate.

Fuck.

Already, Joe was not liking where this was going. The only reason he would be given a file like this with marks inside was to rid the world of them. He could make a business out of being a hitman, if he wanted to. He wasn’t stuck with only work in Chicago, but that’s where his loyalty and family were at the end of the day. So, he only willingly offered his services to his family.

After all, that’s just what he was good at. Like his father had once been, too.

“These look like prospective marks for me,” Joe said.

“Because they are,” Lucian said from his chair.

Joe flipped through the pages again. “Shit, you’ve even laid out details for me the way I like …” He passed his father a glance, adding, “Which tells me this has been in the works for longer than I actually was aware.”

“Yes, well …”