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As I head to the elevator for my second-floor apartment, I glance at my phone.
Nicolo Abruzzi. The name fits.
When I get out on my floor, I swear I’m floating. Right up to my door.
Then I hit the ground with a heavy thump.
Because there’s a box. All wrapped up and waiting outside my door.
ChapterThree
NICOLO
Mia’s joint is packed when I get there.
In one corner, her man, one of my bosses, has his hands all up in his wife, borderline not suitable for work. Christian doesn’t fucking care. When it comes to her, I’ve noticed he’s touching her every chance he gets. Mia’s really trying to act like she cares and is failing miserably, though not in the sense she’s not enjoying her husband all but feeling her up.
The woman shines around him. The scar on her face is visible from here, a constant reminder we failed to do our jobs.
That’s the fucking issue, isn’t it? One small slip and shit hits the fan. Like when—
I shut the thought down. There’s no way I’m going down that road.
On the stage is some old-school bump and grind, and I eyeball the ladies for a moment, before turning to the bar.
Tucked in one corner is Leo De Luca’s wife, Scarlett, and Diego stands in a suit, stone-faced, behind her.
There are three top enforcers. Me, Diego and Tizio, and anyone looking over would miss the fact Diego’s like a brother. I don’t. There’s a question in his eyes. One that basically says what the actual fuck are you doing here when you got time off. I’d be looking at him with the same look if the roles were reversed.
The pretty little dark-haired angel from hell that’s Leo’s new bride gives me a look, and I lean against the bar next to her.
“Leo’s running late. I’m making him take me to dinner,” she says in her way of greeting.
“Stopped by Brother’s for you and your partner in crime over there.”
Her eyes darken. “And did you meet Avah?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I slide a look toward Mia, who’s spotted me and heading over, Christian gives me a long look before nodding and putting his phone to his ear as he walks out the back.
She weaves through the people like a pro, fingers smoothing down over the dress she has on, one that’s a little rumpled from Christian. Gotta admire the guy’s fucking style. And taste in women.
I’d never say that to him. We get along, we trust each other—have to in this line of work, this high up—but Tizio, Diego, and I have a bet about just how jealous and possessive Christian is. Gives his wife room to move, but look at her wrong, and he’ll probably torture first and ask questions never.
I know he’d do that.
I’ve helped him torture a few fuckers before. Fuckers that have deserved it and more.
And not just for him; we’re talking for the head of the family, Leo, and his cousin, Theo.
You don’t touch a De Luca family woman. Ever.
Not if you want to live.
“Five minutes, Nicolo,” Mia says when she arrives. “I really don’t want Christian or Leo to know about this.”
She lifts her gaze to Diego.
