AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then there’s his engagement. I flinch, my grip tightening on the leash.
The Concorde… that wasn’t me. Regardless of what Luca feels or doesn’t feel for Evie O’Hanlon…regardless of whether their arrangement is just business…I don’t get in the middle of other people’s relationships. The fact that I’ve been here less than a week and I’ve already done so leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Baccio and I reach the apartment and start back up the stoop, but I stop, something registering in my subconscious. I bend, pretending to fix something on Baccio’s harness while my gaze scans the street around me.
It’s relatively quiet as New York neighborhoods go. No one else is about this late at night except for a young couple further down and the twitch of a curtain two houses over. It’s so quiet I start to think I’m imagining things.
And then I see it—movement inside the dark SUV parked on the opposite side of the street. It’s the faintest bit, too small for me to see what or who it is. A couple making out, maybe? Someone behind the wheel texting someone?
Someone watching?
The only reason it even registered on my radar, I think, is because I noticed the car earlier when Henry dropped me off. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. This is NYC. People walk around. People drive. People park.
But it is weird that someone is still in that same car after all this time.
And in my business, one has to be wary of people sitting in cars outside of your home.
I make a mental note to check for the car in the morning and lead the dog back inside the building.
Maybe I’m paranoid.
Maybe I’m just careful.
You can’t be too careful.
Chapter 7
Luca
IhadhopedtastingCarina would make me stop thinking about her, but she’s infiltrated my system and demands to be my every thought.
I can’t have her on my mind today. Today is important. I have a meeting in a place I don’t want to be. A place that I swore I would never return to. I pull up outside the ten-story building. The parking garage is full of high-end vehicles, telling me some very important people are inside. This building is mostly used for storage. As I park my car in a reserved spot, two Range Rovers pull up on either side of me into spots that have also been reserved for my men.
Once my men get out and check the garage, I follow. I’ve brought five of them with me today. You never know who will be here. I can still picture my father sitting with the Romanov leader in the VIP box after they left me no choice but to kill Francis.
This area of New York is protected, and no police would dare come near this building or its surrounding area. I have always been happy with the blind eye the police turn to our dealings, but not this place. I want to tear it down brick by brick.
I push all of that away, though, and slip on a mask of indifference as I walk to the main door of the building. A single silver keypad sits to the left of the entry. Punching in the four-digit code sends a buzzing sound along the door before it opens. I step into the long corridor, where lights flicker on with each step I take, lighting up the space in front of me. The walls are lined with steel roller doors, and in between each are plain wooden doors with numbers.
I stop at the door to number thirteen. The number was picked for a reason. In American culture, it is considered bad luck, but with us Italians, it’s good luck. To me, nothing good is behind this door. I tighten my hand around the knob and pull open the door, entering into another long hallway.
The corridor is already lit up. There are no doors on either side of this hall, just an elevator at the end. Once again, a code is needed to enter, the number the same as the front door. I punch in my code, and the elevator doors spring open.
This isn’t the only entry to the basement, but it is the one the Mafia uses. The fighters went in via another door, I remember, entering from the lower-level alleyway on the opposite side of the building. Those doors are manned and have cameras on them. Here, there are no cameras. No traces of any who enter or leave. It works well for my meeting today; I don’t want any evidence left behind.
Two of my men ride down in the elevator with me. The other three will follow behind. When the doors open, we enter the large basement level of the building. This was intended to be an underground parking garage, but the project was never completed. Right now, it’s being used for underground fighting.
Memories of the Pits slam into me. I can almost taste the blood in the air and the sweat of the spectators who stand around the cage waiting to be entertained.
“So, you want another round?”Francis’s voice whispers against my mind. The arena that’s been erected sits below me as I move toward the aluminum bleachers, pushing back the memories of the five times I fought to the death in this place.
I choose a mostly empty section of bleachers and sit down, focusing on the cage below us after a cursory look around me. I don’t look up at the VIP box. I’m sitting directly beneath it; whoever is up there won’t see me, and that’s how I want it to remain. I’m tempted to look up, though, to see who’s here tonight. My father wouldn’t be in attendance. He never had before, not until he pitted me against the other unfortunates with no way out.
After the Pits received its five souls from me, my father was never anywhere around. I’d like to attribute that to shame, although it was nothing new. He had never been around, not even when I was a kid.
The only person who was consistent in my life was Tom, my father’s head of security. He was there, silent and strong, when I returned drenched in shadows and with a soul soaked in blood. He didn’t try to make me feel better, but he didn’t make me feel like a monster, either.
I glance at my security, who are scattered around me but not too close. I need my protection in this wide-open place, but I also need my privacy. Someone is always watching. I glance at my watch and see that I’m ten minutes early for my meeting. I take off my wool coat and open the top button of my black suit jacket.
