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Chapter Seven
Nero
Imeet Mickie’s eyes in the mirror while Francesco, my tailor, works with the hem of my navy suit pants in the dressing room of my beach estate. “Is everything set for dinner at the ball tonight?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Fish, not steak?”
“Fish tonight. Steak reservations for Thursday.”
“Excellent.”
Cash drops – by boat being fish, by land being steak – and shipments have been increasingly difficult to get done due to Drew, Adam, Edwin and whatever selective group of feds they’re working for, but leniency regarding time has been extended my direction.
For a pricey fee, of course.
Covering those fees comes straight out of my pocket, and if I didn’t have a beautiful woman in my bed every night to help distract me from the resources it’s draining to keep everything looking as though it is really running smoothly, I would be in a much more violent mood.
Elle keeps me relatively sane.
And my balls respectfully empty.
She is the best thing to happen to me.
Just like grandmother swore the right woman would be.
The vibrating of my phone in my pants pocket has me promptly reaching for it, causing Francesco to scold me in Italian to stay still.
After presenting my apologies in the same native tongue, I happily swipe to answer the call from the very female I was just thinking about. “Afternoon, Mrs. DeLuca. You better be calling to tell me you’re on your way to me. You know how unacceptable I find tardiness.”
She doesn’t instantly respond, and when she finally does, it sounds like it’s at a distance. “How the hell did you get in here, Adam?”
Any ability to breathe is suddenly severed.
“How the hell did you even know where to find me?!”
Good question.
“Someone forgot to lock the back door.”
For fucks sake, why isn’t someone watching the back door?!
“And I still follow Gina on soc’ shit, which made finding you as easy as ever. She’s always posting about the projects you’re working on, and her nipples are usually rock hard in the pics, and I like that. Fucking her once wasn’t enough, ya know?”
“You fucked my best friend?!”
“I’ll probably gift her a goodbye fuck before you, dad, Drew, and me disappear with the marshals.”
Marshals?
Fuck.
WITSEC.
Those bastards are trying to sell me out and vanish before me or my family can shut them up.
Elle’s voice croaks in confusion. “What?!”
