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“Okay.” He nods then looks at me sideways.
“What is it?”
He fidgets in his chair like he usually does when he’s delivering bad news. Even though both of us hold the same spot in the hierarchy, no one really considers him a serious player. The only reason he’s still holding the capo’s role is because heand the don are childhood friends. Donato is too old and too passive to do any actual work, so I’m doing most of it and he’s just overseeing execution.
“Barbini reached out to me yesterday,” he says.
“And what did Lorenzo want?”
“He was asking about your plans for when you take over.”
That didn’t take him long. I expected Lorenzo to make a move, but I assumed he would wait until Giuseppe stepped down. “Plans for what exactly?” I ask.
“Family business.”
“I’ll let the Family know when the time comes. For now, we operate as the don wants.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll tell him that.” He nods and hurries out of the office.
I pick up my phone and start scrolling through the missed calls from this morning, stopping when I reach Isabella’s name. She’s called me twice, the first time around ten and again two hours ago. I let it ring through both times. Leaning back in the chair, I tilt my head and stare at the ceiling, wondering what I’m going to do with her.
I have no idea what came over me last night, but no way am I doing it again. And I am not having sex with her until she is twenty-one. It may sound ridiculous, but I can’t stomach the idea of fucking a nineteen-year-old. She might not look like one in the dark while sprawled out on the bed, with her hand between her legs. But then I see her in the morning light, looking even younger with her eyes still puffy from a lack of sleep, and I feel like a piece of shit. This madness stops now. What she does in her room, is her business. Whatever insanity that possessed me to tell her to come to me when she needs her “problem”handled is gone now. I’m not opening that door between our rooms again. If she wants to fuck, she’ll have to wait, or find someone else. I don’t give a damn.
The phone on my desk rings.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Rossi,” my secretary says from the other side. “Your wife is here.”
What the fuck is she doing here? “Send her in,” I say through gritted teeth and march to the door. A brief glance outside and I find all my employees have stopped what they were doing to gawk at Isabella. They probably heard Magda announce her.
“Back to work!” I snap at them as I watch Isabella approach, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She’s wearing a white sleeveless dress that hugs her chest and flares down from the waist, reaching her knees. Her hair is tied at the top of her head in a long straight ponytail, and oversized sunglasses hide her eyes.
She stops in front of me, removes the shades, and tilts her head up. “Good afternoon, husband.”
“Get inside.” I step aside, letting her pass, and shut the door. “Where’s your bodyguard?”
“You haven’t assigned me one yet. I tried calling you, but you didn’t return my calls.” She sits down on the sofa in the corner of my office and tilts her chin up. “We had a deal. You take my calls. I take your bodyguard.”
“Did Renato drive you here?” He is a dead man.
“No. He said he can’t take me anywhere without a bodyguard.”
“So how the fuck did you get here?”
“Taxi.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
She leans back and smiles. “I’m here because of our agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“The one from last night,” she says, and I stare as she lifts her ass, pulls the skirt of her dress up and removes a beige thong. “I have a problem. And I need you to solve it.”
She launches the thong across the room where it falls on my desk.
“I’ve changed my mind.” I round my desk and sit down. Grabbing the lacy undergarment, I sling it back at her. “You’re allowed to use your hand. Go home. One of the security guys will drop you off.”
