She’s right. She’s fucking right. If I want to ever win her back after forcing her to marry me against her will, I have to startletting her make her own decisions. She will never allow herself to love me again if I insist on ruling with an iron fist.
I take her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and marveling at how soft her skin is. “Fine. I won’t.”
A second passes, and then she squeezes my hand back. “It’ll be all right.”
I want to believe she’s right, but doubts still swirl inside. And maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear there’s a hint of something false inside her piercing blue eyes.
CHAPTER 19
NERO
The air in the back room of Red Vines is thick with the heat of bodies and cigar smoke. A lone overhead lamp illuminates the table and the men sitting around it with dim light.
The room goes quiet as I step over the threshold.
Maksim’s gaze meets mine. He puffs on his cigar and gives me a small wave. “Welcome,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. “Have a seat.”
Yannis walks over to shake my hand. “Welcome back to New York, Mr. De Luca. We missed you around these parts.”
I pat Yannis on the back. He’s not a bad guy, although I wonder if his neutrality will continue to stand if this war keeps heating up. It’s nice to mix and mingle in times of peace, but when the dead keep piling up, few men will be willing to leave their grudges at the door of Red Vines.
Taking a seat, I do a quick inventory of who’s here. There are two men I don’t recognize, three Greeks that I’ve seen hanging around Yannis, Sergio Delvagio—a free agent previouslyassociated with the Santoro family—and Mick Smith. Fuck that guy. I’m certain that’s not his real name. He’s a trafficker and someone I don’t like to associate with.
Given the malicious look in his eyes, he knows it too.
“Do we need to make any introductions?” Maksim asks.
I nod at the two men I haven’t seen before. “We haven’t met.”
Turns out they’re Albanian smugglers here on vacation. Friends of Yannis.
What a merry fucking crew.
Yannis makes sure we all have drinks and then the game begins.
The dealer, a younger Greek I recognize but whose name I can’t recall, shuffles the deck with practiced hands.
To determine the button position, each player is dealt one card face up. I get a seven. One of the Albanians gets a king, earning the button, making me the big blind. The agreed-upon big blind is four hundred dollars. I slide my chips into the pot, waiting for the dealer to deal the starting hands.
Mick’s eyeing me with a smirk that’s starting to piss me off.
I swipe my palm over my chin. “Got something on my face?”
He flashes me his yellow teeth. “Must be nice to take a six-month sabbatical from all this. Want to share some tips? I’d love a vacation.”
Two cards appear in front of me. I glance at them quickly before stacking them together. “Plenty of people around these parts who’d like to send you on a permanent vacation, Mick.”
He cackles. “Still got your sense of humor, I see.”
We start the first betting round. Mick folds. The rest check. I raise. The dealer deals three cards on the table. I mentally run through the possible combinations.
I’ve got nothing.
Maksim brings his drink to his lips. “Nero came back to New York with a beautiful wife.”
This fucking prick.
“Oh yeah?” Mick drawls. “How is she liking it here?”
