Page 50 of The Boss

I clear my throat. “Just thank you. I’m expecting a call any minute now from Anthony or Lorenzo, so I’m going to head upstairs. Don’t worry, I’ve already called Drew, and he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

I make the walk into my office, and as soon as Drew walks in, Anthony calls.

“Gino, you have some nerve attacking my men,” he says, the annoyance in his voice evident.

“Well, I wouldn’t continue to do this if you’d just tell me where Mateo is. I know you know something,” I reply.

“I know nothing, as I’ve told you many times. Maybe your man wants to leave and is soaking up the Italian sun,” he says, like it’s a joke.

I scoff. “Believe me, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Well then, tell your men to fall back, or I’m going to start messing up your deals in the States. I’ve been holding off, knowing that your man seems to be somewhere no one can find him.”

Before I can give any reply, he hangs up. I throw my phone on the desk and drop my head, leaning my body against the desk.

I look up at Drew and cross my arms.

“He’s at his villa; that's all I got,” Drew mutters, looking at me.

“Shit.”

Within seconds, Lorenzo’s name lights up my phone.

“Lorenzo,” I grumble.

“Listen, stop calling my father; it’s no use. He knows nothing. He won’t know anything,” he tells me.

“He called me. What else do you want?”

“Honestly? Nothing. I just want you to suffer. Your man may come back eventually, but I’ll decide when that is,” and he hangs up.

What is it with these Russos constantly needing to have the last word?

I look at Drew again.

“He’s at his father’s villa,” he replies.

“So he’s still using it as his cover,” I say.

“He has to be,” he replies.

Juliet walks into the office. “What if he’s using his father for more than just a cover for the phone calls?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He could be using his father for a lot of things without Anthony knowing. He could be using money, assets, and men from him that he doesn’t know about,” she replies.

“Drew?” I ask.

“I’ll look into it.” Drew gets up and leaves the room.

“Dinner’s ready,” Juliet says.

“Thank you.” I give her a soft smile, and she leaves the room.

I can’t keep these feelings of want and need for her in much longer. I waited eight years to make my first move, and I’m not going to wait another eight to make the second.

TWENTY-THREE