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Right now, the Mafia could burn in hell for all I cared. Adrian could have it all. All I wanted was Leda.
“Get some sleep,” Rocco said gruffly.
I cracked open an eye, and saw that he hadn’t moved from his spot in the chair. His gun was visible on his thigh. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Watch over me while I sleep?”
Rocco shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, boss, I am. That’s my job, remember?”
Well, hell. Now I felt like shit for that too. At least I was batting a thousand for ruining people’s days.
Chapter 50
Lucas
The next day, after a few aspirins and a visit to the yacht so I could shower and change clothes, I dove into my work. I knew that no matter what I did, it wasn’t going to help me forget the tortured look on Leda’s face before she kicked me out of my own fucking penthouse. I had to channel that feeling into something productive.
There was one more capo that I had been told was spouting some shit about my role as Don, and as much as I didn’t want to make the tension any tighter within the Mafia, I couldn’t allow him to continue to disrespect me like that.
I had to make an example. Let them know that I wasn’t fucking around.
So, Rocco and I paid him a visit at his home in Bushwick. “You sure you want to do this?” Rocco asked in a low voice as we walked up the stairs of the brick building that housed the man’s apartment. “I can take him to one of the shops: give him the old one-two, maybe work the body, and carve up his face. You know. The usual.”
I shook my head, and cracked my knuckles absent-mindedly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?”
We climbed the rest of the way until we came to the apartment, and I pounded on the door. The smell of piss and garbage lingered in the hallway. Somewhere down the hall, a dog barked, followed by a baby crying before both were quieted by their respective owners. You’d think that someone as well paid as one of my own capos would have the dignity of living in a better place.
When I heard the locks flip, Rocco withdrew his gun and held it at his side in case we were greeted with the same cold steel. I knew that he would push me out of the line of fire if there was a hint of danger, and even take a bullet if he had to.
The door flung open, and it only took a matter of minutes for the man to realize who was beating down his door so early in the morning.
His eyes widened, but before his mouth could open, we were pushing into the apartment. “D-don Valentino,” he stuttered. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your visit?”
I gave him a cruel grin, stripping off my dark coat. “Enzo, I think you know why I am here.”
He nervously ran a hand through his blond hair, his eyes on Rocco’s gun. “I-I don’t know, Don, I swear it.”
I made a tutting sound and rolled up the sleeves of my dress shirt casually. “Now, Enzo. What have I told you about lying?”
“That lying only brings trouble,” he bit out, some of his surprise fading.
“That’s right,” I answered as Rocco locked the door. Enzo swallowed visibly. Poor bastard probably thought I was just here for a talk, nothing more.
It couldn’t be further from the truth. “I don’t like being lied to,” I told him, my fists balling at my sides. “Nor do I like my own fucking men talking behind my back about mutiny.”
“Don Valentino, please,” Enzo started in, holding up his hands nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I chuckled darkly. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. Look, it was just some drunk talk.” He gave a feeble smile. “You know how it is. Put a couple of drinks in me and I can’t shut the fuck up about anything and everything. My mother always said my mouth was going to get me in trouble.”
“Well,” I answered, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “She was right.”
He didn’t even have time to react as I drove my fist into his solar plexus. My next blow landed on his nose, and I felt the satisfying crack of bone under my knuckles before blood started to rush out onto Enzo’s face.
“Fuck!” He screamed, attempting to defend himself.
I didn’t give him the chance and landed one punch after another until he was crumpled on the dirty tile floor. It wasn’t until Enzo quit moving that I stopped and looked at the blood pooling under his body.
