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I practically bare my teeth at him.
“I am not them.”
I’m not Luca, Carmine, or Gabriele who all had a hand in Maks’s sister-in-law Anastasia getting hurt and being abducted by a Russian rival.
“You may as well be.”
“I get it. You’re protecting your wife’s friend to protect your wife from getting upset. Maybe you’re even friends with Michelle and are doing it for her sake. But I am not using her to fuck you over. Believe it or not, you are not my main priority in life. The bratva isn’t the center of my universe. Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck about you personally, Maks. I care about you staying out of the way of my family’s businesses. I care about you not lying to get my family thrown in prison for life. I care about a lot of things, but you are not one of them. Since I don’t give a shit about you, move. I have a commitment that I will not be late for.”
“You mean your date.”
I glower at him. We keep nothing in this office that matters. The desks are bare, and the drawers are empty. We use the conference room for convenience or when we need a respectable place to meet with clients or associates. I walk past him into the hallway.
“Lock up behind you.”
I’m not worried about him staying behind and snooping. Let him. He won’t find shit.
“Enzo, stay away from her.”
“Why? So you can make your wife happy?”
“Among other things. Michelle is a nice girl.”
“Laura is too, but not only did you marry her, you have twins together. It’s a slice of the American dream. You’re good enough to marry Laura, but I’m just some shit on the bottom of your shoes and not good enough for Michelle.”
“Exactly.”
He crosses his arms, and I want to knock the smug look off his face.
“Then let Michelle tell me that.”
“She doesn’t know—”
“And neither did Laura when you brought her into this world. But you let her decide. Michelle deserves the same respect. She can make her own choices. If I’m the one she chooses, then back off. If she doesn’t want me, then I walk away and never bother her again.”
I put my hands on my hips. I’m not as broad across the back and chest as Maks, but I’m just as strong. I know because I can carry Gabriele’s two-sixty ass up and down stairs when he’s dead weight. Maks can do the same for Sergei, who’s the same size and build as Gabriele. The last time we had to do that was at the same fucking shoot-out with some low-level Colombian dickheads who tried to steal our coke to impress Enrique Diaz. Except they got confused and went after some bratva weapons shipments. That was a shitshow and a half.
“If you’re just fucking around with her—”
“Enough, Maks. I get it. I don’t have to explain myself to you, but for Laura’s sake, I will. I like her.”
He stands there and stares at me before he nods once. Now it’s perfectly fucking awkward because we have to ride down in the same elevator. It’s not like I’m going to ask him, “how do you like those Mets?” We don’t look at each other until the doors open. Neither of us steps forward, then we both do. We jostle each other and manage to get out without slamming each other into a wall.
I go out to the town car waiting for me, and I pull out my phone.
Me
Do you want me to meet you in your office? Or do you want to come out to the town car?
I wait for a response, and the minutes tick by as I get closer to her office. I wait for her to respond, but nothing comes through. Her meeting must still be going. I wait in the car, but when ten minutes go by, and I get no text from her, something doesn’t feel right. She’s not the type to stand me up. I’m certain of that, even if we don’t know each other well yet. If her plans changed or she was running late, she would have texted me. Something’s off.
I head into her building and look at the directory. I recognize the name of her firm and push the button for the twelfth floor. This feels like an even longer ride than going down eighteen stories with Maks. The doors open, and I look around. I spot the door to her office suite and head toward it. I open it, and everything sounds quiet. No one’s around. I step inside, then I hear it.
I bolt toward the sound of a scuffle, then a woman’s scream. It’s coming from a corner office, so I try to open the door. It’s locked. It’s Michelle’s office, and I’m certain that’s her. I step back and kick the door hard enough that it splinters. I will never forget — but will always wish that I could — seeing Michelle pinned in a corner with a man with his hand halfway up her skirt. I’m across the space in three strides. I grab the back of his suit coat and yank him away from her. I’m at least fifteen years younger than him, even though he’s tall and in decent shape. I shove him into the wall and put my forearm across his throat.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if you come near my girlfriend again, you will find out what it means to cross a Mancinelli.”
I know he’s a New Yorker. It’s easy to tell just looking at him. If he’s in business in this city and can afford the expensive suit he’s wearing, then he knows my family name.
