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My confusion clearly shows on my face because Dom tilts his head, knocking his knuckles against the wooden cabinet next to him.
“Don’t act like you don’t know Nicco is a fucking fool when it comes to you. You see how fast he got a rental car and pulled me into his shit when you wanted to go take pictures of your shitty husband on your iPhone?” He narrows his eyes at me and downs the rest of his water. “When he couldn’t find you, when his fucking bitch of a father had you locked away with the DeSantis girl, he went fucking crazy. He’s been tearing apart every safe house he knows of. He’s sent me on car chases following Gabriel. We got caught by him a few times while trying to hack into his shit.”
“Come on,” I say, scoffing.
There’s no way. Dom is making it sound like his life has revolved around finding me for these past four months. There’s just no way.
“Think what you want, lady,” Dom says. “You should probably hear this shit from fucking lover boy anyways.” He glances at his phone before pouring himself some kind of clear liquor. “The DeSantis girl. How bad off is she?”
He does a one-eighty, inquiring about Sofia, and it immediately makes me wonder why he’s asking about her.
“Poor thing has been locked up for a year or something now, yeah?” He shakes his head and shoots the liquid back into his throat. “How does someone who’s been locked up with Gabriel Amato look like that, though?”
And by the way his eyes lighten, I almost wonder if Dom is overcompensating about Nicco’slover boyantics because he’s feeling some shit of his own…
19
NICCOLÒ
The man across from me has beady black eyes, and I look into them without blinking, letting him know all bets are off. Literally. I’m sitting at a table with five other men as we finish out a round of poker, and the guy with the soulless eyes has been grating on my damn nerves all night.
He’s an associate. An annoying-as-fuck one who’s constantly fucking shit up for me. And I’d love to take all of his money and send him crying back to his used car lot we gave him the loan for.
I would love to be at Dom’s place right now, talking to Evelina, figuring out how I can get her to forgive me for leaving her on the side of the road that day. Forgive me for not finding her sooner…
Instead, I’m playing a fucking card game because I knew if I didn’t show up, someone would know I was up to something. This is a circle Gabriel’s been running for years, and there’s a lot of money on the line. I can’t just not show up.
But fucking hell, I wish I could ditch this fuckshow. I’m a few seconds away from saying fuck it. I showed my face; these men can get fucked.
When the beady-eyed fucker glances down at the cards the dealer lays across the table, I scan the old building I turned into a modern-day speakeasy; it’s just one of my many revenue streams—only this one, compared to many, isn’t as…above table.
I told the contractors to model this place off ofTrue Blood’sinfamous Fangtasia, and the designers pulled out all the fucking stops. This place is practically dripping with sex, with its black and blood-red décor and women in barely there old-time burlesque attire. It’s a much more upscale place when compared to The Vault.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fold, not giving a shit about losing the measly ten grand on the table. I’ll make up for it later.
Dom informs me that he just got news on a hit that needs to be completed, and while he’s got both an internal guard on her and several external guards, none of them are as invested as I am.
I need to get to her.
Need to fucking finally have a long overdue conversation with her.
I have another plan because I’m fucking nothing without one. The thing about Evelina is I know she won’t take kindly to what I’ll propose, if she’s anything like the woman she was just four months ago. I don’t think my woman lost much of her tenacity while locked up. She’s far too fucking strong.
I’ve already come up with a plan B that I have a feeling I’ll be needing, so I’ve put that into place too. Honestly, it’s more like plan A because I know her better than she knows herself. My plan B will look better to the rest of the mafia families because there’s a hefty sum of money involved.
“Well, business calls.” I stand from the table, and I don’t miss the collective sighs from my opponents.
“Come on, boss!” Richie, one of my capos I’m now overseeing, whines like a child, and I slap him on the back of his head.
“Boss?” the beady-eyed fucker across from me asks, and I nod and down what’s left of my drink as Richie explains I’ve been appointed by Gabriel.
Our close associates are finding out about the transfer of power, and it seems we’ve got a pretty clear divide going on. The men who were devoted to Gabriel are pissed off about his sudden departure and worried about the future of the family now that I’ve taken over. The men who have sense left in their heads are open to the idea.
There’s a storm brewing.
I’m ready to see which men are going to remain by my side and which will fold.
But right now, I’m a hell of a lot more interested in seeing Evelina—my little fucking viper in the middle of a minefield.
