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“Enough with the Mr. Calvano shit. Call me Emiliano, and if you have a better suggestion, please share them with the group.” I gestureto my men.
Cain lifts his hands in surrender. “No, sounds good to me. But I want to be in thatmeeting.”
“No. These types of people do not like a crowd. Especially whendirty dealingsare being discussed. He’ll smell your fed stench from a mile away.”
Cain’s eyes narrow, and he leans forward in his seat. “Let’s get one thing clear: I’m not an amateur. I may work for a reputable and above-board company, but I have no problem balancing the line between legal and illegal to get the job done. Now, either I go in with you or on my own, and none of your men will see me coming. I can really fuck this up for you, Emiliano, or you can lose the lone wolf routine and accept my expertise.” He leans back in his chair and taps the armrests rhythmically. “What will it be? Get this shit done and save the woman you supposedly care for, or fuck around and let her get farther and farther away?”
His words affect me more than I would ever admit, and the sinking, gut-churning thought of my pearl vanishing forever is enough to squelch my rising temper at the smug bastard in front of me. I nod in agreement. “Very well, Cain. We will try it your way.” I’m the one to lean forward this time. “But if I get a hint of betrayal from you, even the great Caleb Marron won’t find your body.”
His face stretches into a wide grin, and his eyes light. He stands and extends his hand to me to shake. “Fair enough. And the same applies if I get a hint that you’re keeping Greta against her will. Deal?”
I take the man’s hand. “Deal.”
7
Greta
I’m in hell. A bit dramatic? Perhaps, but strolling through the ostentatious mega-mansion of an international drug and human trafficker is most people’s version of hell on earth. All but the two-hundred guests meandering around the twenty-nine thousand square foot mansion dressed in their best, all looking to make deals and alliances to further their power.
And if what Sebastian says is true, then I’m one of these people. The very thought has my stomach cramping and bile rising up my throat, and the sudden fogginess in my head, like I just woke up from a deep sleep, wasn’t helping.
“Smile,Piccolo Uccello.” Sebastian’s words are clipped, and the fingers at my waist dig into my ribs painfully. “We’re here to make friends, not alienate potential customers.”
His words have a chill clawing up my spine, and I have to force myself not to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I smile at my husband and run my hand down the buttons of his expensive dress shirt. “I’m sorry. I think this party is too much, too soon after getting out of the hospital. So much is clouding my mind.” I bring my fingertips to my temples, where a headache has begun to form.
Sebastian’s lips caress my forehead when he speaks. “I’m sorry, my love, but it couldn’t be helped. I need to speak with Franzese before he heads back home.” I look around, then back to Sebastian in question. He smirks before answering my unspoken question. “Hisotherhome in Naples.”
I hum in understanding, then sip from my champagne glass. The image of Camil and I drinking the bitter concoction after picking my wedding dress flashes before my eyes, causing my heart to pinch. I rub at the spot absentmindedly.
Is she doing well?
Is she scared for me?
Is she demanding Emil track me down?
Is sheeven real?
The last thought sends another ache through my chest and stabbing pain to my temples. The same stabbing pain happens anytime I try to recall a memory. It’s like my brain immediately tries to shut down any recollection.
“Remember, the doctor said to not force it,” Sebastian murmurs into my hair while massaging my neck.
“I know, but the…images sometimes spring up, and I start to analyze them. It’s hard to stop,”I answer.
Sebastian turns me in his arms and lifts my chin. “I understand, but I need you to work harder to let them go. Focus on the here and now. Focus on us,” he finishes with a tender kiss on my lips. Another dagger stabs at my temple as the vision of Emiliano’s lips on mine screams forward, but I hide the memory behind a hum of deceitful lust. Sebastian smiles against my lips, then turns me back to facethe crowd.
“Now,Piccolo Uccello, let us go conquer the world.” He looks at me with a playful smirk. “One greedy bastard at a time.”
An hour goes by, then another, and I’m stuck listening to my husband promise to deliver “fresh product” to our host Anthony Franzese while the potbelly Italian practically gropes the young, terrified woman at his side. The longer we stay and mingle among these monsters, the more I’m convinced Sebastian is lying about me being a part of his business. There’s no way I’m party to such a thing. It takes everything in me not to vomit all over the man’s expensive handmade Italian loafers just looking at the waif of a girl––no doubt a trafficked woman––standing like a dead-eyed statue next to the pig.
“I believe we have a deal,SignoreVas… Marius,” Mr. Franzese says, and I pretend not to notice his blunder.
But in true Sebastian style, he plays it off. “If we’re to do business, you must remember my name,SignoreFranzese.” He chuckles and slaps the man on the shoulder harder than necessary if the wince on Franzese’s face is any indication.
“S…sí,” the pig stumbles. “So many people I’ve spoken to tonight, and one begins to blur into another.” He swallows nervously, and sweat lines his recedinghairline.
“I understand, my friend.” Sebastian smiles down at me, and I return it with my own. “I think it’s time my wife and I took our leave. I look forward to doing business with you.” He shakes the man’s hand and then starts on a path to the exit before stopping and grumbling something under his breath.
“What? What’s wrong?”
