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10
Damian wasat headquarters reviewing the new protocols for their men on the ground when a knock sounded at his office door.
“Come in,” he said, still scanning the report in front of him.
A long moment passed and he looked up to see Cole standing near the door, an uncertain expression on his usually stony face.
“What is it?” Damian asked.
“Aria Fiore is here,” he said.
Damian paused, steadying his voice through the embarrassing jolt of desire that stampeded through his bloodstream at the sound of her name.
“What does she want?” Damian asked.
“She wouldn’t say. Just said it was personal.”
Give me five minutes,” Damian said. “Then show her in.”
Cole hesitated as if he wanted to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He disappeared quietly into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Damian leaned back in his chair, mentally preparing for the things Aria Fiore might say. He couldn’t think of a single one. Regardless of her position on the periphery of Primo’s organization, she must be privy to the rules. Must know a war was in the making. Any reason she might have for coming to see him was either a betrayal of her brother or a move on a chess board she had no business making.
The war against Fiore was already in motion. Damian had spent the last twenty-four hours in communication with Farrell Black, asking for resources to help execute the strategy he’d developed, anticipating that Primo wouldn’t take him up on his offer.
He could have acted quickly, hit Primo’s most obvious targets, taken out Platinum in an effort to destabilize the organization. But that would have offered short-term satisfaction at the expense of long-term victory. The smart thing to do was to plan one big hit, deploy multiple teams to all of Fiore’s key business locations and take them out all at once.
Platinum included.
He didn’t like hitting another boss’ headquarters. It was usually a safe zone for an organization. But there were no rules in the middle of a war, and Primo Fiore had been given the opportunity to avoid one. Damian had declared the apartment Primo shared with his sister off limits out of deference to Aria. He could tell from her eyes that she’d suffered enough. Everything else was fair game, and he’d passed along their plans to the Syndicate through Farrell and received their approval only hours later.
Not that Damian was looking for permission.
He still hadn’t decided if he was going to take the Syndicate up on their offer. The alternatives were few: he could abandon the business he’d built or he could fight the Syndicate for the New York territory.
The former was unappealing for a number of reasons. He’d grown to like his business, the raw honesty of it, the hands-on aspect of making decisions that in a company would be delegated to a bureaucratic hierarchy, the opportunity to beat someone senseless when the need arose.
Fighting the Syndicate was no more appetizing. He might be able to pull it off — he was a powerful man with plentiful resources and the money to acquire more. But it would be costly and even if he won he’d be operating alone, an island in the sea of Syndicate territories. How long before they came for him again? How long before his distribution channels and other revenue streams were shut down by players loyal to the history of the Vitale name, the Syndicate leadership of old?
They were questions for which there were no answers. Not yet anyway. He would proceed as planned. Take out the Fiore organization — beautiful sister be damned — and see where they stood.
He was feeling strong in his resolve when another knock came from the door.
“It’s open.”
Cole stood in the doorway and a moment later, Aria Fiore walked past him into the room.
Which was exactly how long it took for Damian’s resolve to waver.
She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered, her hair swinging against her collarbone, making him wish he could duck his head to the hollow there, lick the velvety skin. She’d been poured into black jeans, a silky blouse half tucked in, revealing just enough of her figure to make him want more. A black bag was slung casually across her body, heavy boots adding to his impression of steel over velvet, the armor she used to make everyone think she was all hard edges when he was positive he’d find plentiful soft spaces underneath it all.
He stood as she entered, using all his discipline to appear unfazed by the electricity of her presence.
“Miss Fiore,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Please sit.”
He indicated the chairs in front of his desk and she hesitated before choosing one.
Damian looked at Cole. “Leave us.”
