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Raul shifted in his chair, clearing his throat as we entered the grounds.
Ten minutes later, we pulled into a circular driveway in front of the grandest mansion I’d ever seen. If I didn’t know I was in Canada, I would’ve thought I was in Italy as I stared in awe at the luxurious villa.
My door opened the second we stopped. Getting out, I surveyed our surroundings. Guards were easy to spot patrolling the barren treeline. Everything was dormant and dull, as winter approached. The shrubbery had a light dusting of snow and twinkling lights. I bet Roja would love this place. She’d call it breathtaking.
The front door opened. “Hero, Raul,” Stephen greeted with a smile. He was in his customary suit and tie and slicked-back hair. “Please come in.”
“Stephen,” I returned curtly, not interested in pleasantries. Mad as hell, he didn’t tell me about the journey we’d take for this meeting.
“We’re in the study. This way…” Stephen proceeded down a long hallway. The soles of his black oxfords squeaked, echoing off the two-story vaulted ceiling.
Unnerving.
White marble floors, dark paneling, and expensive-looking artwork surrounded us. If we were being led to our death, this was the best way to go… In the lap of luxury.
Movement on my right caught my attention. A beautiful young woman with sad eyes stared at me from behind a large plant. She held my gaze for a beat then disappeared.
Unsettling.
Was she Stephen’s wife?
He opened double doors. “Alessio and Ciro, your guests have arrived.” Stephen turned toward us. “Please, have a seat.” He fanned his hand out toward a long leather sofa the four of us easily fit on. Across from it was another where Alessio and Ciro sat, drinking coffee. This formal side was new to me.
My brothers and I took our designated seats, quite the contrast in our outlaw attire compared to the regal men dressed in their custom-tailored suits and silk ties.That’s the Mafia for you.
The elder Remotti set his cup on the coffee table. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming on short notice. My son and I are aware of your holiday approaching. There was no other time we could do this.”
“Yes, although this visit may seem unconventional to you, I assure you, we’ll make it worth your trouble.”
“Ciro, is it?” I asked, though I knew he was. My position in this meeting was the spokesperson for the club, given Stephen was my contact. Raul was a silent party, but he had all the power in these dealings, per Storm’s proxy.
“Yes, my apologies.” Ciro’s jaw twitched. I wasn’t sure where his irritation was directed. Toward himself for not performing introductions properly or with me for calling out his faux pas. “I’m Ciro Remotti, Alessio’s oldest son.”
“Ciro is next in line,” Alessio added. “He’ll take my position when I retire next year.” His severe gaze was trained on his son as if watching his every move. Made me glad I never knew my father.
I nodded, noting Stephen off to the side. “I’m Hero, the club’s Sergeant at Arms. These are my brothers. Raul, the club’s VP, Track, our Road Captain, and Dodge.”
My brothers grunted like the uncultured outlaws we were.
“Pleasure.” Alessio made eye contact with each of us.
In typical fashion, I got on with it. “Now that we have introductions out of the way, why are we here?” I didn’t want to waste any more of our time. The unusualness ofusbeing in the same room with the head of a Mafia family was too fucking uncomfortable. I wanted to know what they wanted so we could get the fuck out of Canada.
“Ciro,” his father said in a directive tone.
He returned a curt nod. “First, would you like some coffee?” He gestured to the silver tray on the square table between us.
“No,” I replied for my brothers. All I wanted was to know what the hell they wanted with us.
“Very well. We’d like your MC to help eliminate a problem of ours.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Of the familial kind.” Ciro leveled his gaze at me. His dark brown eyes turned black… filled with hate. Murderous.
“You want us to kill a family member? No. We aren’t assassins.” What were these people thinking? Hiring us to kill someone when they could easily do it themselves. It made no sense.
Ciro stood, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, and paced the floor. “I know what you’re thinking, Hero.” His voice boomed, again irritated. “Yes, we could do the job ourselves. However, doing so would cause problems within the families. We need this to come from the outside.” He faced me. “From your MC.”
