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CHAPTERFIVE
“ANOTHER, SIR?”
DOM gave a clipped nod to the waiter, who refreshed his sparkling water and quickly walked away, giving him privacy as Dom waited as patiently as he was able. He didn’t like to wait, not when there was always something or someone grabbing his attention—like the kid he’d left downstairs shaking in his boots. But when the boss demanded face time, you didn’t ask questions.
Especially when the boss was your blood.
Fire crackled nearby, but the rest of the fine-dining establishment was quiet and empty, not yet open for the dinner crowd. With low ambient lighting showing off the richly textured walls, and a new Michelin-starred chef creating masterful menus behind the scenes, Serafina was one of the gems of Midas. One that even Dom’s father ventured out for from behind his high walls.
And there he was now, striding into the restaurant with the confidence of a man who knew his worth and dared anyone to challenge him. But along with that self-possession came the charm, and Vincenzo Rossetti greeted each and every person he passed by name and with a smile, leaving them feeling better than they did before he came. It was a gift for sure, one Dom didn’t feel he possessed, but that wasn’t his job as second-in-command. At least for now.
Following close behind were Vincenzo’s handful of bodyguards, a necessity nowadays, though as he headed toward Dom, they stayed off to the side, watching over them both.
Dom stood, both men standing a tall six-foot-two, and greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. “Father.”
“Son.” Vincenzo grabbed Dom’s face and gave him the usual once-over, as if making sure he was all right, that there was nothing that needed to be addressed. Once he was satisfied, he released his son and moved to the seat opposite Dom’s. “I see you’ve visited the tailor recently. That color suits you.”
Dom glanced down at his suit. “Black?”
Vincenzo’s lips tugged to one side, a mirror image of Dom’s smirk.“Yes. It goes hand in hand with the expression on your face. Really, son, we’re about to have dinner. You can’t muster up a smile for your father?”
Dom arched a brow as the waiter appeared by their table, and watched as the smirk on his father’s lips curved into an engaging smile. They exchanged pleasantries, Vincenzo polite as ever, and while he might think that put the man at ease, Dom knew better. He caught the subtle shaking of the pen as the man took down the order then turned to Dom, who shook his head.
The waiter scurried off, and Vincenzo tsked. “That wasn’t very polite.”
“I’m not here to be polite.”
He picked up the glass of water in front of him, then eyed Dom across the table. “I taught you better than that.”
“And I’ve told you that you are polite enough for the both of us. I’m not like you.”
“No, you are not, which almost makes it more important that the public perceives you in a certain light.”
“And what light should that be?” Dom clasped his hands on the table, his father’s ring glinting under the restaurant’s lights, reminding him why he was there. Ofwhyhis father had set up this meeting. “As the son of a businessman? Or the son who just acquired the prize his father has been looking for in order to bring his enemy to his knees?”
The smile from seconds ago was replaced with a tight jaw. “It’s done, then?”
“Itis locked in the basement.”
Vincenzo said nothing as he reached for one of the folded napkins and flicked it open, then he smoothed it over his lap as he thought over what Dom had just said.“Alive?”
“That was the request, was it not?”
“Again, with the mood I walked in on, it’s a legitimate question.”
“Perhaps the mood isbecausehe’s still alive. But that was the request, so that is how he remains.”
“So impatient,” Vincenzo said with a curl to his lips as he lifted his glass. “Tell me about him.”
“There’s not much to tell. This morning he was at an Ivy League school, and tonight he’s tied up in my basement.”
Vincenzo rolled his eyes. “What does heknow?”
“If he’s telling the truth, not a thing.”
“And is he? Telling the truth?”
Dom swirled his glass in circles on the smooth linen of the table and thought back to the pure terror he’d seen in Luca’s eyes. It had been mixed with an innocence he hadn’t seen from anyone in a very, very long time. “I didn’t get the chance to extract information the way I’d like to, so I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but my gut feeling is yes. He’s completely unaware. And”—Dom smirked at the memory—“he thinks his parents are great. A nice, normal, happy little family.”
