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“Need me to take care of that before we go talk?”
“No, I don’t want to keep our boss waiting.” I emphasized boss, knowing just how much it got under Giancarlo’s skin. I was either going to get throat fucked or get to plow Gin’s ass all night. Win-win.
“You little shit.” Gin reached for me, but I ran before he could catch me.
Benito was still at his desk when I walked in. “Sorry about that.”
He waved it off. “I’m used to my brother’s antics.” Benito’s gaze bore into me. “He’s feeding you?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, I feed him.” Gin lifted my shirt. “Look at him. He ain’t a tiny twig anymore.”
“Gin.” I slapped his hand, and he laughed as he dropped my shirt.
I wasn’t super skinny anymore. I’d filled out and was even able to put on a little muscle. It came in handy when I wanted to manhandle Giancarlo in the bedroom.
“I take care of what’s mine,” Gin said.
“Until you get bored and forget it’s there.”
They were talking about me as if I weren’t there and nothing more than a pet for him. I shook my head. It was just like the first time I’d met Benito.
“Ash is smart, and what he found isn’t small. I can’t stress this enough, Gin. This needs to be successful.” Benito stared at Gin. If looks could kill, Gin would be on the floor twitching and gasping with his last breath.
“He said he’ll work. I'm not going to stop him.”
Benito looked skeptical, but he sighed. “Good. Ash, I need you to go over those files again. This time there will be accountant names attached to certain files. I want to know exactly who all covered this fuck up.”
“Yes, si—”
Giancarlo cleared his throat. I peeked at him. He raised a brow in response.
“Mr. Vitale is fine,” Benito said.
I nodded. “Yes, Mr. Vitale.”
“Ash, you’re free to go,” Benito said.
I glanced at Giancarlo, and he nodded for me to go. I headed toward the door.
“I received a call from Alessio Fallaci. You came inside of Marco’s damn car?” Benito slammed his hand on the desk. “Gin, we don’t need the damn Fallacis nipping at our fucking ankles.”
“They’re trash anyway.”
“Yes, but they still hold ground here. You’re paying for the detail.”
“I ain’t paying shit.”
The door closed behind me. I didn’t want to be there for that conversation.
* * *
The shopI’d found online was small and family-owned. There was high-end leather attire all over the store. Besides me, there were only three people, and each one had someone assisting them. I tugged at my shirt nervously. It took me an entire two weeks before I’d decided on what to get Gin.
“Have you been helped, sir?” an older gentleman asked me. His silvery locs were pulled back. His gray eyes were soft, and the gray mustache made him look kind and regal.
“Oh, no.” I smiled back at him.
