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We walked to the private elevators that took us to his private floor. His space was a replica of Paradiso. Creams, whites, gold, and diamonds, except he had some onyx touches here and there.
The elevator doors opened, and his two black and tan Dobermans ran up with their ears raised. They started wagging their tails when they recognized Gio. The only way I could tell them apart was by their collars. One was white and the other was black.
Even his dogs fit in his space.
They were both female because he said they were more trustworthy. He had men he somewhat trusted, but he said he trusted his dogs more. Couldn’t fucking blame him.
Each one of the dogs took a side and walked him into the penthouse.
Before I could enter his office, the back of my heels was slammed into by something hard. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath while Kitty laughed in her motorized scooter.
“You thought you could get me, Big? Well, I got you!”
I’d had one of my men stick something underneath her scooter that made a slight noise. She’d been wondering what it was for weeks, and for weeks, I had peace from her slamming into my heels and yelling, Whoops! Someone is too slow!
Kitty was still active, but she didn’t like traffic, and the only places she ever went was either to Paradiso or Portofino. She’d use her scooter to go back and forth because her breathing wasn’t all that great. And she liked to drink.
She must have been on her way from Portofino to Paradiso when I was driving here. She enjoyed watching the front of the place turn into a version of the Mediterranean Sea. It was something the older Tullio did in the ’90s. He hired a special-effects team to plaster the mountains on the building, while the front filled up with a sea of water.
Kitty said he did that to win her back. Kitty had divorced both of our grandfathers, but the relationship between the three of them, when my grandfather was still alive, was fucking odd. It was almost like they shared her.
It was a miracle I didn’t see her, though. Her entire scooter was encrusted in diamonds, and she even had her own custom license plate with two words on it: Dmnd Legs.
She backed up, the machine beeping, and took off for the kitchen. The dogs ran into Gio’s office to get away from her.
Neither of us said anything as we followed behind them. That was our link to each other, and she’d always been a live wire.
I sighed as I took a seat before his desk. I lifted my leg, crossed it over my other, and rubbed my ankle. It was like getting hit with a runaway fucking basket at the grocery store.
“Water?” Gio swiveled in his chair to grab a glass.
“Had one. On the house. Tell me what’s going on.”
Gio poured himself a drink and turned to face me. He pulled out two pens and two pieces of paper, then slid a pen and a piece of paper over to me. We always wrote notes when it came to business. It was too risky to talk.
He scribbled down: I have reason to believe one of my men is selling flesh right underneath my nose.
In Paradiso?
“Yeah.” He sighed as the burn of the liquor went down his throat. He wrote down a name. Lou Rispoli.
Lou and Jerry Rispoli were brothers. Jerry worked for me, and I’d started to suspect he was getting into shit that I didn’t allow either. Like drugs and using underage kids to deliver them. It was a nice setup, since a kid wasn’t as obvious as an adult.
Like Gio, though, I didn’t mess with drugs—too much heat—and I didn’t sell women, or anyone for that matter. I drew a hard line there. But I didn’t see a problem with strip clubs or escort services because those choices were consensual.
The only reason we allowed the brothers to work for both of us was because Gio and I were allies. We had our own shit going on, and sometimes we could be competitive when it came to our casinos, but we were linked together, even if the connection was a live electrical cord.
Jerry in on it?
He shrugged. Far as I heard, it’s the drugs for him. Separate pots, but same stove.
Yeah, I’ve gotten wind of that. I grabbed for the pitcher of water and poured a glass. It’s best to have one on hand while in hell.
Has Jerry been around? He looked up at me after he finished writing.
I set the glass down. It’s been a day or two. That’s not unusual for him, though.
He doesn’t think you know anything.
