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CHAPTER23
LEO
The bass poundsin my chest as I stride through the dimly lit corridors of The Cellar. Leather and lace everywhere I look, the musky stink of sex…and the promise that Julian Castellani is here. Rachel gave me a heads up, and that’s why I’m here, my dick as piqued as my curiosity.
He’s at the bar, laying on the charm with Gertie, nursing a drink, watching, always watching.
When he sees me, he stares at me hard, those unblinking eyes still a little unnerving. I half-raise a hand in greeting, and only then does Julian push off from the bar and stride toward me. My pulse speeds up as he approaches.
“I need to speak with you,” he says. “Somewhere private.”
I know what he means, and I already haggled over the price with Rachel before I got here, so I just turn and lead Julian down the narrow hallway to Romeo’s Room. Once inside, I close and lock the door. This room holds memories, flashes of tangled limbs and ragged breaths and the kind of pleasure I never expected with Julian Castellani.
Maybe we’ll make a few more memories tonight.
“I have a job for you,” he says, when I turn to face him. His eyes are guarded, giving nothing away. But there’s an undercurrent of vulnerability in his voice that makes me want to pull him close, offer a comfort that’s not my place to give.
“You have a job for me? That’s not how this works, Castellani.”
“You already know you’re going to do it, Leo,” he tells me with that infuriating smirk. “Because it’s going to beinteresting.”
Damn him. “I’m listening.”
Julian wanders over to the old hospital bed we usually end up fucking on, running his fingers along the PVC cover. “I need your help investigating my mother’s murder.”
That was…not what I expected. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not always great at reading people, Leo. Body language. Facial expressions.” He turns back, leans against the bed. “But I think you might be better at it. That’s where I want your help. Simple, non-lethal, and your daddy doesn’t have to know that you helped out a dirty Castellani.”
He’s being his usual arrogant prick self, but something about his request tugs at me, dredging up an urge to protect that has nothing to do with duty or Family, and everything to do with the man in front of me.
I should refuse. Helping Julian Castellani seek justice for his mother is not part of my playbook for this job. But that look in his eyes…
And hell, building trust with him is probably smart.
“I’ll help.”
* * *
Turns out Julian has it all planned. So the next day, still a little sore that he walked out after our talk rather than staying around for some fun, I arrive at a park and take a seat on a bench near a handful of old men playing chess on the public boards. I pull my hoodie further over my face, and hope the sunglasses and tattoo-covering gloves I have are enough to avoid me being recognized.
But Vito DiPietro is pushing eighty and his eyes aren’t so good these days. He sits there, focused on his friends, kicking their asses on the chess board.
Julian’s appearance kills off the vibe. Castellani slides into the chair opposite DiPietro, smiles, and the Castellani Underboss orders his friends to leave. They get out of there fast, proof of the power DiPietro still wields.
“What the hell do you want, Julian?” DiPietro grumbles, irritated at the interruption of his game. I casually hold up my phone, like I’m checking a text, and start filming the two of them. I zoom in on DiPietro’s face.
As they talk, I watch closely. Julian was right last night. Part of being an Enforcer means being able to read people, and I’ve honed this skill over the years.
Can’t read Julian, though. Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking obsessed.
“Where were you the day my mother was killed?” Julian asks.
Vito seems nervous, playing with the gold cross around his neck. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
Vito grunts. “I remember the day before. Nowthatwas an important day. Ciro held a meeting. Aldo Bernardi, Anna-Vittoria Esposito. Even Chuckles Moran got an invite, though it was his first and last. It was business, but Ciro made out like it was a garden party, too, brought in all that English shit your mother liked—tea, cucumber sandwiches, scones. But she disappeared partway through.” DiPietro looks closely at Julian as he adds, “So did Lombardo.”
