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“That’s right. We are conducting our meeting at an industry party at the Beaumont.”
Her face falls. I know what she was hoping for—she thought it’d mean an evening alone. Just the two of us. I should’ve been clearer. Business is business. My empire requires around-the-clock work; it doesn’t end because the sun goes down. Often, it’s a twenty-four-hour commitment.
“I only came by to check on you,” I say, cupping her cheek. “Carlotta is having the staff prepare dinner. Relax the rest of the evening. Eat and get some rest.”
I shift closer to kiss her again, but she turns her head. Her expression tightens, her lips clamped together.
“Falynn,” I say in warning. “You know I can’t stay. I’m a busy man. I have to meet with Rosenbaum about the deal we’re working out.”
“Why can’t I go?” she asks, a hint of desperation to her tone. “You said it’s an industry party.”
“You don’t like coming with me to events. This one in particular isn’t safe. Hey, look at me.” I grip her chin so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “It’s best if you stay here. It’s not the kind of event you bring a wife to.”
“Then what is?”
“The dinners we host here.”
“Where we spend the night talking with others. When are you going to have time for us? When are you going to take time off?”
“We’ve been over this. Work is too important for time off.”
Though she says nothing, I can feel the tension twitching in her jaw. I can see the knit of her brows.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s your problem?”
“Just go…”
A difficult breath rumbles out of me. I admit I haven’t been the best husband. I’ve been gone more than I’ve been present. She’s been forced to bear much of her fertility struggles alone. But I’m a King running an empire. A man heading one of the most powerful crime families in the world. My dominance grows by the day. My earnings are now in the ten-figure bracket.
Rome wasn’t built in a day. It takes years to cultivate what I have. I’ll be damned if I let it go to waste now. She knew what she was signing up for when she became my Queen. I never promised a traditional life—I promised her a comfortable one, full of luxury and wealth. She’s just going to have to learn to deal.
I grab her hand and run my thumb over the big rock on her finger.
“Wear my ring,” I say. “Eat your dinner. Get some rest. I will be back when I come back.”
I turn away from her and head for the door, leaving her standing in the middle of our bedroom still half dressed from our fucking. I slam the door shut behind me and glare at my security in the hall.
“What the hell are you staring at?” I snap at Dante. He’s probably spent the last twenty minutes listening to me and Falynn fuck, but I don’t care. That doesn’t give him reason to gape at me like a stupidcazzo. “My car better be waiting for me downstairs.”
“Yes, Boss! Pelosi is waiting to take you to Rosenbaum’s party.”
“Good,” I grunt, running a hand over my shirt. It’s slightly more wrinkled now after Falynn twisted her fists in it. “Let’s go.”
Rosenbaum’s party is held on the rooftop of the Beaumont, known for its rich and famous clientele. A-listers mingle with industry bigwigs and other powerful businessmen as waitstaff deliver drinks and party favors. Sprinkled throughout are the ditzy bimbos in their sky-high heels and tight dresses, in search of a man with a fat wallet to take them home tonight.
I enter flanked by my men, drawing attention from the moment we set foot on the rooftop terrace. Murmurs of curiosity ripple through the crowd. I’ve automatically become the most powerful man in attendance.
Giovanni Sorrentino, one of the country’s richest businessmen—andKing of the Sorrentino crime empire. A fact that’s long been rumored and speculated upon, but hasn’t stuck with a federal case yet. Nobody can prove a thing, yet my net worth grows exponentially by the day.
This latest business deal with Saul Rosenbaum will only catapult my operation into the next stratosphere. It’s lucrative for us to go into this partnership together thanks to his status as a major entertainment mogul. Our joint effort to start a production company will be yet another perfect cover to wash the millions upon millions we rake in.
Saul stands up the moment he sees me. He’s carved out his own space in the most VIP area of the rooftop, right beside the pool that glows against the blue and purple neon lights. A fat grin curls onto his pasty, pockmarked face. He opens his arms up, welcoming me. Dollar signs might as well flash in his eyes from the greedy way the SOB looks at me.
But that’s what I like about Saul—he’s all about profit, nothing more, nothing less. Whatever unscrupulous ways he earns that profit is entirely irrelevant as far as he’s concerned. It doesn’t even have to be legal, so long as it’s done well enough to pass under the law’s radar.
“Giovanni!” he exclaims. “So glad you finally made it! Better than some stuffy dinner party, yes?”
The others seated in his section give obligatory laughs. Every last one of them are hangers-on. Yes-men and groupies whose sole purpose is to kiss the ass of a powerful man like Saul.
