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“Won’t happen. I got the smarts,” Alex says, tapping the side of this head.
“Sure.”
“Boss is waiting.” Evan’s deep voice booms across the room, drowning out the whir of the computers around us and commanding everyone’s attention. The only man on Earth who’s scarier than him is his big brother, the boss, Damien Cirillo.
We follow the voice toward the boss’s office, quickly catching up with his underboss and slipping into the room behind him.
Evan takes his place standing beside Damien, who’s sitting at his massive, carved, don’t-fuck-with-me mahogany desk.
Unlike the rest of the modern hotel and casino, Damien’s office is old school. Framed photographs of the men who’ve come before us line the walls, surrounded by ornate mahogany furniture. The paintwork is a deep blood red, and the carpet gives me a fucking headache each time I come in here.
I glance over at Alex, wondering if his head is spinning from having to stand on it.
I smirk when I find his chin tilted slightly up. I get it; it’s almost like the weird shapes are moving when you’re sober, so I can’t imagine how they must look to him right now.
Over in the corner of the room, slumped back in a chair and sipping on a glass of whisky is Charon Ariti. Toby’s grandad and the boss’s consigliere.
“Afternoon,” Damien says, his deep voice echoing around the room.
As a kid, I remember being completely terrified by him and Evan. They’re so different from how my sisters portray our father.
“Problem with school this afternoon?” he asks.
“U-uh…” Theo starts, but his father soon cuts him off.
“Whatever. I’m down on security tonight for a private function. I need the three of you ready to work—sober,” he says, pointing a searing look at Alex, “by nine.”
“And you couldn’t have told us that on the phone?”
“You should be at school. If you’re not there, then you’re working.” Sitting back, he slides a piece of paper toward the three of us.
My heart damn near stops in my chest when I look down at the person in the photograph.
“Estella Doukas,” Boss states as I fight to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I need is him reading something on my face that I’m not ready to give away yet. “She started at Knight’s Ridge today.”
“And what’s this got to do with us?” Theo asks, cool and calm like ever. If I were to glance over, I know I’d find his hard mask firmly in place.
It’s a mask he’s inherited from his father, and his grandfather before that. It’s the reason I know without having to ask that one day he’ll be the one sitting in that chair, running this Family and dishing out orders.
“I need the three of you to keep an eye on her.”
“We’re not babysitting,” I blurt out, regretting it instantly when Damien’s cold, hard eyes lock on mine.
I swallow, regretting making any kind of deal out of this.
“I’m not asking you to babysit her. Stella is more than capable of looking after herself.”
Don’t I fucking know it. My balls ache just at the thought.
“So why do we need to look out for her?”
“You just do.” Damien pins his son with a look that cuts off any argument he might have. “And needless to say, this stays between us.” Ripping his gaze away, he ensures that both Alex and I hear his silent warning. Nico and Toby are not a part of this. And Stella isn’t to know.
Great, just fucking great.
“Seeing as you’ve given yourselves the afternoon off. I’ve something else for you. Go to Marco’s. He’s late on payment.”
“You want us to—”
