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“Idon’t give a fuck what they’re saying, Vito, it’s bullshit, and a move I won’t take lightly,” I snap, my hands clenching with anger. My brother nods in agreement, likely as pissed as I am, while my youngest brother, Enzo, shakes his head, wiping a hand down his face as he contemplates the situation.
Enzo may be the youngest, but he’s also the brains.
I’m the eldest, with the ability to think fast, manipulate others to get what I want, and a venomous attitude toward anyone who tries to cross us. While Vito, the middle brother, prefers violence and talking with his fists—or blade, or any weapon necessary, really.
“Don’t you think that seems too convenient, like someone’s setting this up? Settingusup?” Enzo asks, undoing the top button of his shirt as he relaxes back into his seat in the booth. The luxury leather molds around his body as he gets comfortable—nothing but the highest quality for a Featherstone establishment.
What a fucking joke.
There are a lot of answers we’ve yet to uncover and far too many questions popping up every day, but we didn’t travel all the way to New York from Italy for nothing. Although, while sitting at the table with my brothers instead of the Russians we were supposed to meet, I can’t help but agree with my brother’s thoughts. Unless Enzo is onto something.
“How?” Vito grunts, clearly on the same train of thought as I am. His shirt is already unbuttoned at the neck, his blazer slung over the chair placed at the opening of the booth we’re seated in. His pristine white shirt almost shines with the lighting, which only serves to illuminate the scarring on his hands and neck.
“Why would the Russians call a meeting at a Featherstone property to begin with? Only to not show up when they were also promised so much by Totem?” Enzo asks, quirking a brow at me.
I tap my fingers on the table, mulling over his words. “I assumed it would be because they had some insider information, just like you two did,” I murmur, appreciating the low volume of the ambient music so I can still hear myself think.
We’ve been eager for insider information for some time. Especially after Totem, a man feared even by name, wound up dead at Featherstone Academy, a school whose student body is strictly limited to criminal bloodlines. He had promised many people many things, all for it to disappear, along with his body as it rots in an unmarked grave.
“I know what you mean, brother, I just…” Enzo trails off, his jaw gaping open as he looks across the room toward the entrance, making me frown. He doesn’t get distracted, not as easily as Vito and me, so what the hell could—
“Holy fuck.” The words slip from my mouth like a prayer, my eyes glued to the wonder that is being led through the room.
It’s like she’s walking in slow motion—the sway of her hips, the flick of her hair, fuck, the swell of her breasts… She’s like a siren as she’s being guided toward the bar.
We’ve been seated in the exclusive sex club for almost an hour, unwavering and uncaring of anything happening around us. On the stage across from us, a show plays out with a woman choking on some guy’s cock while another fucks her from behind, all while he’s also being fucked by a third man. They look like they’re having the time of their lives, but it all melds into the background.
Not her though.
Definitelynot her.
My cock stands at half-mast already, begging me to get over the issue with the Russians so I can relish in the feeling of myself under her, but this situation has been out of hand for long enough. We’re now in the States, and we have to focus on resolving these issues while we’re here.
“Is it my birthday? Because it looks like there’s a present for me to unwrap,” Vito murmurs, brushing his fingers over his lips with interest flicking in his eyes.
Fuck.
All three of us are like moths to a flame for the random beauty that just walked in. I don’t blame them. She’s dressed the part for the location, after all.
Is she hoping to indulge tonight? Experience pleasure like never before?
Shit.
Falling victim to her body is far too easy, especially when she’s wearing a strappy top that leaves little to the imagination. That black fabric against her pale skin makes my lips dry, the cut-out detail revealing the curve of her hips and teasing at what I can only imagine are the pinkest nipples on earth.
“Well, since the Russians aren’t here yet, we may as well have some fun,” Vito comments when neither Enzo or I respond, and I scoff, halting him as he moves to rise to his feet.
“I’d say she’s caught everyone’s attention, wouldn’t you?” I state, refusing to lose out to my brother so soon.
Enzo chuckles, strumming his fingers on the table top as he glances toward me, his eyes lighting up as he realizes where my head is at. “Is our drinking game in order?” he asks, glancing at Vito for confirmation, who groans, not pleased at having competition, but always eager for some fun to break up the madness that is our life. Running the De Luca family isn’t for everyone, but hell, the mafia life is in our blood, our souls, and it’s our livelihood.
“It seems we need something, orsomeone, to distract us from going on a rampage in New York right now. I’m in,” Vito says, raising his hand and calling a waiter over.
“Good evening, gentlemen. How may I help you?” the waiter asks as he approaches, and a grin spreads over my lips. But before I can speak, Vito takes the reins.
“We’ll take three beers, and your most popular cocktail for the lady in black at the bar,” he orders, pointing to the vixen who has captured our attention. The waiter nods, not saying another word as he places our order on the tablet in his hands and walks away without a backward glance.
“I assume that means you’re taking the cocktail section?” Enzo asks, eyes wide with excitement as he glances at me. “I’ll take spirits with a mixer,” he adds, laying claim to the next big category, and I groan, annoyed that I hinted at the game, only to be the last to select.
