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I humor Everett with a nod and half of a smirk, hiding behind more puffs from my cigar. Even a cold bastard like me doesn’t have the heart to tell him his existence sounds pitiful as hell. Four marriages are pointless. So are the mistresses and the hot young things after his money. If it’s the same result, why keep wasting the energy?
Now for something special, the reward might justify the risk. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Falynn floats to mind. Funny how a man’s outlook can change. If you asked me even a couple months ago, I probably would’ve sounded a lot like Everett. But the idea of a carousel of bimbos and gold diggers sounds like hell when I can have heaven.
Everett waves his blonde plaything over. She links arms with her friend and they totter over in their tall stilettos. Both are attractive if the porn star special is your thing—bleach blonde, bright eyes, overly tanned skin and bolt-on tits. Hell, in the past, I probably would’ve fucked them both to celebrate Vittoria’s success.
But as they giggle their hellos, and Everett grins at me, I’m not feeling it. The only pussy I want to sink into is Falynn’s. After a taste of the purest honey, I can’t go back to the artificial shit. The high spirits I’ve been feeling from Vittoria’s reopening dissipate. Suddenly, the solitude of my office on the top floor calls me.
“I’ll see you around, Everett,” I say with a nod. He calls after me, but I don’t stop and answer. As far as I’m concerned, the celebrations are over.
Robby knocks on my office door and pokes his head inside. “Boss? Do you got a second?”
I grunt from where I’m seated, legs kicked up on my desk. I’ve spent the last hour sipping on whiskey, surrounded by a lingering haze of cigar smoke. I’ve got the security screens up, a panel of television windows that are remote-control operated and reveal themselves when I press the button that slides back the walls.
“You okay?” Robby asks when he gets a look at me.
I’m sure I look a mess. My polished suit and slicked hair are no more. My eyes are red from exhaustion, and I don’t need to glance in the mirror to know I’m almost pasty enough to give C.J. a run for his money. As much as I don’t want to admit it, these past few weeks I’ve been deteriorating.
Sure, my cool and calculated mind has returned, but everything else? It’s gone to hell. I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating. Not keeping up with my physique. Damn sure not getting any action, which means my balls are about to bust.
All because Falynn is gone. Even if I’ll never admit it aloud.
Robby closes the door behind him. “The hit didn’t pan out.”
I quirk a brow. “You mean, you failed.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately, Robby.”
“Boss, I tried to tell you Lovato was a step ahead. He wasn’t at the location we thought he’d be—turns out he’s outta town on business.”
“Get the fuck out of my face.”
“But, Boss—”
“The only time I’m going to tell you.” Cigar puffing smoke, I trail my fingertips over the glock lying on top of my desk.
Robby takes half a step back. I never get to find out if he’s trying to play Russian roulette with his life, because in the next second, the door bursts open and C.J. hurries in panting.
“Boss, I ran up here! Lovato is on your main line.”
“Lovato?”
C.J. nods, drinking in air. “He’s calling from an unknown number. He…he wants to talk to you. He sounds like he’s in a good mood.”
My harsh glare is still on Robby as I drop my legs and sit up from my reclining position. I pick up my desk phone and press the button for the main line. C.J. wasn’t kidding about Lovato being in high spirits. His reedy voice drips with fucking joy.
“Giovanni,” he says. “How’s the reopening of the Vittoria going?”
“Fuck off, Antonio.”
“Still lacking manners, I see. You should really check that.”
“Or else, what? Who’s going to make me? You?”
“I’ve never had a problem making you before,” Lovato says cockily. “I did make you shut down your casino for a whole extra month, didn’t I?”
“What is this? You’re calling me to talk shit? You’re big and bad now? After you just skipped town like a little bitch?”
I can hear the grin in Lovato’s voice. “I didn’t leave town because of you, Giovanni. I left town for you.”
“Whatever makes a shrimp-dickcabronlike you feel better at night. Just know, this isn’t over. I’ll be waiting for you when you decide to man up and show your face in my city again. You better be sleeping with one eye open.”
“Something tells me I’ll sleepverysoundly tonight.”
“With a Vienna sausage that small? I doubt it. We’re done here.”
“Before you go, Giovanni, I have a message to pass.” Lovato pauses for a second, dragging it out with pure delight. The muffled sound of a woman’s whimper is in the background, but Lovato’s cruel laugh drowns it out. “Your girl says hello.”
