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Gabriel drones on about how he and Stefano are going to take the Greco fucker under their wing as I think about Sofia and Julissa. The women we kidnapped because of a deal gone wrong.
We were supposed to get an in with north-side cops, take over a section of the DeSantis’s turf, but they saved their asses at the last minute, and Gabriel went on a rampage—kidnapping Sofia, Romeo DeSantis’s only daughter, and Julissa, Dante DeSantis’s wife. It doesn’t shock me that the DeSantis boss has hope that his daughter is still alive. We never returned her body.
And I still don’t know what Gabriel and Stefano did with it.
“All right, Greco,” Gabriel says, effectively ending all other table conversation that’s started as I sit here in my head, not wanting to be a willing participant in how Gabriel runs his ship anymore.
I like the life I lead. Hell, I fucking love it. But I’m sick and fucking tired of being a pawn in this man’s game.
I like to kill for retribution. He likes to kill for the shock factor.
I enjoy swindling the upper-crust fucks out of millions by beating them at their own games.
But Gabriel? He likes to gut innocent women and children just for the hell of it.
“No more fucking with my money at Nicco’s club, you hear me? You come on down Tuesday night. I know that’s your night.” Gabriel pauses to give Greco a wink, and I want to gouge out his eyeball. “I’ll give you one free hour with a woman of your choosing, just to really get this partnership started off on the right foot.”
The men around the table laugh, all but me and Matteo, who hasn’t said more than two words since I sat down.
“Heard you got a pretty, tight little thing for a wife, though, pretty boy. Can’t imagine the whores down at Nicco’s club hold a candle to that sweet pussy you got in your bed waiting on you.” Gabriel’s tone deepens as he talks about Evelina, and my ears start to ring as my blood pressure climbs.
It takes every fiber of my resilience not to reach across the table to where Enzo sits with his smug face and fucking choke him to death. Then, repeat the same damn thing to Gabriel. It’d solve multiple issues I’ve got going on.
I block out Gabriel’s words because I can’t afford to get into it with him.
Not today.
My stare lands on Enzo as he shakes hands with Gabriel and Stefano. The bastard doesn’t deserve to walk on the same ground as Evelina—his wife who is probably waiting on him at home right now. I can’t fucking think about his hands on her skin or the fact that he’s going to go plow into one of our dancers and then stick his still-wet dick into the woman who lives rent fucking free in my mind.
Everyone gets up from the table, but I stay planted in my seat as a waitress sets down a bourbon in front of me. I down the contents of the glass. There’s only one solution to Enzo Greco making himself known around here.
One solution to the fact that he’s married to my perfect goddamn obsession.
I need to fucking end him.
4
EVELINA
“Give me whatever you’re drinking,” he says, his voice deep and smooth and the things wet dreams are made of.
I’m a sucker for a good voice. I hear so many awful midwestern accents that still sound foreign to me, even after living in Chicago for the past five years. But Niccolò Amato has a downright panty-melting cadence to his words that I could get used to.
Although I won’t.
Because I’m sick of men and their bullshit.
Oh…and because I’m married. Probably also a decent reason—even if my husband kind of sucks.
Okay, really sucks.
I smile at him as I look over at Giana, double-checking that she’s doing okay with the dozen kids who have come in from the group home today to choose books to check out on an honor system basis. It’s her second shift, and she’s already proven herself to be a natural with the children who have signed up for the new Child Meets Book program.
“You got it, sir,” I quip and turn to pour him my current favorite creation.
As soon as my back is to him, I sense his eyes on me. A deep chuckle escapes his lips as I gather the ingredients, and I swivel around to see what’s so funny to him, cocking an eyebrow at the smirk spreading across his face.
“Sir, huh?” he asks, and I nod.
