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I groan, then stand, buttoning my three-piece Armani suit. “I guess it’s time to put my game face on, right?” This would be considered my first business meeting since Carmine handed over the throne to me. I’m not nervous, but it’s hard to set my playful personality aside. It’s why I think Matias would have been a better choice, but Carmine thinks my ability to adapt, be joyful, and be outgoing is what will make me a strong leader.
Matias doesn’t seem bothered by that fact at all. He’s happy to be my right-hand man.
“Check them for weapons. No more than him and two of his guards will be allowed in the house. You can reassure him that is all I will have too.” It’s odd giving the command to Gianni. He’s older, more experienced, but still, he doesn’t question me at all.
He gives me a curt nod and Matias stays where he is. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks, looking up at me with the same face that stares back at me in the mirror every morning and every night.
“No. You are staying here. Damn it.” I head to the window, tucking my hands in my pockets, and watch the fancy Rolls Royce pull into the circle driveway.
“What is it?”
I sigh, narrowing my eyes when the driver opens the car door for Bianchi, and he steps out. So this is the big bad Bianchi. The one I need to keep my guard up with. He kind of reminds me of Carmine.
“I shouldn’t have said the quiet word,” I admit, pointing my finger at Matias. “I’ll never admit defeat again.”
“We will see when we play Battleship again.”
“You cheat,” I accuse, feeling like I’m thirteen all over again.
In many ways, my brother and I do have childlike souls. Battleship is a game we play every other night, like clockwork, no matter what. When Carmine would take the abuse from our father, Matias and I would hide in the closet, and with a flashlight as our only source of light, we played Battleship. People eat food when they are stressed but my brother and I revert to that board game.
“I don’t cheat,” he argues.
“Gianni will be the scorekeeper next time.”
Matias rolls his eyes, but the fun banter ends when the knock on the door sounds.
I stare at my reflection in the window, watching the smile fade and the stoic expression take its place. Matias stands and I use that to stand in front of my desk. I won’t use it as protection. If this guy wants to kill me, he wouldn’t be doing it like this.
“Mr. Milazzo?” Gianni’s voice comes through the speaker. “Mr. Bianchi is here to see you.”
I gesture for Matias to stand by my side, and he does, showing the gun on his hip. “You may enter,” I state, standing so the first person Bianchi sees is me.
His bodyguards enter first and then they part, Bianchi strolling between them. He’s older than me, the white around his temples telling me so. He has dark eyes, trimmed thick brows, and high cheekbones that give him a skeletal appearance.
“They left their weapons in the car with the other two guards he brought,” Gianni informs, closing the door behind him and standing there with his arms in front of him, hands clasped, readying himself to tackle anyone who makes a move.
“Thank you, Gianni.”
“And the rest of the compound is secured and at the ready,” he follows up.
“You will not have to worry about me or my men attacking,” Bianchi states. “I am here on business, nothing more. What I need to speak with you about is urgent, Mr. Milazzo.” He holds out his hand to shake and the last thing I want is pleasantries, but enemies have to play nice in order to get what they want sometimes.
I shake his hand, then gesture with my other. “Please, sit. I’m intrigued, to say the least.” I walk around my desk and sit in the chair, leaning back. I cross my legs. He and I stare at one another, but no one will dare get the upper hand in my fucking house. “How can I help you, Bianchi? I need to leave soon.”
“I’ll try and be quick. I apologize for the last-minute meeting, but this was urgent, and it couldn’t wait.” He crosses his right ankle over his left knee, and I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me he is a very dishonest man.
This way of life, the position we are in, we don’t always go by the laws. I break them every day, but I don’t lie and I don’t fucking steal, while this guy in front of me, I bet, does a lot worse.
“Do you want something to drink?” I offer before we get into whatever brought him here.
“No, thank you. I won’t be here long enough to have it,” he states, reaching behind him and one of his guards hands him a file. Bianchi grabs it, sliding it across my desk and I flip it open.
I have no fucking idea what I’m looking at it. It’s a blurry black-and-white picture of someone running down the street.
I try not to lose my temper, but I’m not the type to ever hide my emotions well. I close the file and fold my hands together. “And what would you like for me to do with this information? I can’t identify the person in this photo if that is what you’re looking for. It’s a shit picture,” I state frankly, leaning back in my chair, and he nods in agreement.
“I know, but this person took something very valuable from me, Milazzo. A rare gem. My brother had it in his pocket and then I found him unconscious lying on the ground, the gem gone. If you help me find this person or the gem, or even better, both, I’ll pay you.”
