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I draw a sip of the warm aromatic brew of the Brazilian-grown coffee. “He may not care about his daughter, but he sure as hell cares what others think about her. Having people think Emelia is being forced to be with Dominic will bring widespread shame to the De Rosa name.”
Salvatore and Dominic are both quiet. We don’t take women against their will, and everyone knows it, but perhaps our lady reporter can put a spin on it that will make it believable by all. Neither can deny that it will bring more shame, and at the end of the day, it will be just one more feather in our hat.
Dominic is the first to speak. “Emelia and I will go along with anything that helps and allows me to escort her to show last respects to her mother and brother.”
I nod, knowing full well that Dominic will do the right thing for the family and that Salvatore will look to find a solution that allows Dominic some middle ground.
“We’ve talked about reworking all of their distribution channels instead of shutting them down. If we’re in agreement, then we can move forward with offers to all the De Rosa dock points. Didn’t you say that our guys are ready to step in and start running point on both families’ networks the minute we say go?” I ask Dominic.
He nods in agreement. “They are, and it would reduce a lot of the tensions and skirmishes at more than one port on the coast. This lull in work is creating more trouble than it should. What are we going to do with the girls, though?”
Dominic looks to each of us. “Unless we’ve changed our position on them, we’re going to have to come up with a plan. We all know that many of the shipments that come through those docks are not only going to contain guns, ammo, military grade equipment and dope, but girls and lots of them.”
Salvatore leans back in his chair, looking out at the desert mountain range across the city, probably contemplating the enormity of his responsibility. Each step we take has to fit into a larger piece of the puzzle, and it needs to be done carefully or we’ll not live to see the outcome of any of it.
I set my cup down and lean into the table. “Maybe we’re looking at it all wrong. Maybe we don’t have to do anything different. Let the shipments come through the way they normally do. When they get to the port, we take the girls instead of letting them ship out. We give them the choice of returning to their lives, which many will do. The ones who got picked up off the street and have no life to return to, maybe they find a life with us? Hell, how many strip joints, sex clubs, massage parlors and restaurants do we own? They could pick any number of things that they want to do.”
Salvatore and Dominic don’t look convinced. I shrug, letting them contemplate it for a few minutes. My job is not to tell them what to do, but to offer alternatives for consideration. “It’s one way to let the other families and the cartels know who’s now running the docks. Who’s the lady who helps with coordination of some of that now? We use her; how many times has she helped us before?”
Dominic looks at Salvatore and then to me and nods. “I think you’re right, Lorenzo. Marenah works miracles with the women who have been rescued. She’s been able to return many of them home and place a lot of them in good solid jobs. We probably have more than we even know on our payroll already, Sal. I can get ahold of Matt. He works for Brian Carrington, the steel magnate, and is in a relationship with Marenah.
Salvatore puts both hands on the table. “They get the choice to go home, and we cover the expense. No work it off program. Consider it our charitable contribution. Get the expense written off however the damn tax people want, but the girls don’t work off payment. If they want to go home, we’ll send them home immediately. If they want to look at work options, maybe that isn’t so bad,” he says, still seemingly contemplating the whole concept.
I glance at my watch. “Do you two want to discuss operations around that strategy? I have a meeting with our new media expert.”
Sal’s attention shifts from Dom to me. “Lorenzo talked to me about it at the dinner yesterday. Seems the reporter who wrote the story about you and Emelia has had a change of heart. She now wants to write stories that we want her to write,” Sal says.
Dominic laughs out loud. “Thank fuck. I was scared for a minute that she was going to start popping up in the shower just to get a few good pics.”
I smirk, the image of the fair, red-haired beauty coming to mind as I get ready to leave. “She’ll be waiting for me,” I tell them, although I’ve intentionally made her wait fifteen minutes just to see that flash of defiance in her eyes.
I’ve barely reached the door and Salvatore and Dominic are already diving into the logistics of infusing the blood of the Larussios into all the ports along the California coasts. Let them work on that, while I research the cartel who are probably planning their own revenge on the De Rosas for leaving them hanging with no shipment of girls.
I make a mental note to connect with my sources in South America and find out if the Larussios are on their list to target as well. Knowing that will help us build a strategy that includes all the variables and perhaps puts us a little farther south in terms of expansion.
I punch in the key code and pick up the phone in the room. “Would you escort Miss Arden to my suite, please? And have room service bring us coffee and a few danish and fruit,” I say.
“Yes, sir,” the woman on the other end of the phone says. I shrug out of my suit jacket, hang it in the closet, and settle at the table by the window, letting the morning sun shine onto my skin for a few moments before they both arrive.
The door opens a few minutes later. Maria enters, holding the door with her foot as Isabella strides into the room. The light blue sweater she wears clings to her curves and long waist, tucked into a form-fitting black skirt with the same boots she was wearing at the funeral. The high-heeled black boots stop at her knees, but I envision them going all the way up her creamy thighs, just like they did in my dreams when I parted her legs and claimed her for my very own.
Maria bustles past her with tray in hand, setting it on the table. Isabella takes the seat across from me. I shift in my seat, thank Maria for the food, and try to focus on the business at hand, which seems increasingly difficult whenever this redheaded beauty is near.
“I have a job for you,” I tell her. “It will help you with the transition. I want you to run a couple of pieces on Dominic and Emelia, him taking her to a store to buy a black dress, and then him escorting her to the De Rosas’ funeral.”
Her eyes go wide. “Did Dominic kidnap her? Was that what that kiss was really about?” I shrug. If she doesn’t know for sure, being the one who took that picture, then no one else is going to know either. And if both the Larussio and De Rosa family members living in Italy believe we’ve kidnapped Emelia as retribution, all the better.
I pour us each a coffee and place a danish on one of the small plates, add some fruit and pass it to her, while she adds cream to her cup, before plating a dish for myself. I don’t initially intend to answer her question because some things, especially those like this, are better left unsaid, but change my mind. “Dominic did not kidnap Emelia; nothing could be farther from the truth. But people believe what you lead them to believe, right, Izzy Arden? The first part of your assignment should be a good gauge for us to see how well this relationship will work. I want the criminal world to believe that he took her captive or, at least, believe that possibility may exist.”
“When do you want me to do that?”
“I’ll set it up for tomorrow morning, which fortunately for us, gives us time to get things into place now that we’ve buried our own and dealt with the expansion meetings that were scheduled quite some time ago.”
She nods, absorbing it. “I can be here tomorrow. Where should I meet them?” she asks after taking a bite of the cream cheese pastry.
A crumb settles on her lip, drawing my attention to the fine details of the beauty in front of me. I reach out and dust the crumb away, watching that lovely blush crawl up her cheeks. “I’ll text you the time tonight and pick you up in the morning, Isabella.”
Chapter8
