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I nod despite him not being able to see me. “That’s for sure.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“He said he knows everything.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes.” I know his next question will be how, so I beat him to it. “Honestly, I don’t think it stems from my office. The shorting of the stock is pretty obvious if you know who tampered. If he thinks it’s Lorenzo and has proof of it, it’s not a far jump to make the conclusion that the men in charge of Lorenzo’s finances shorted the stock.”
And that unlucky fucker is me.
“We need to tell Lorenzo and Tobias someone spoke within their ranks,” Cyrus says.
“Yep.”
“Fuck!”
The sound of a glass hitting a table echoes through the line.
“Exactly.”
“There’s a traitor in their house.”
Not a question. A statement.
“Seems that way.”
“Talk to Lorenzo. I’ll speak to Tobias.” There’s a pause as he talks to someone. My sister. He assures her it’s okay, even though we’ve just made her life a hell of a lot more dangerous. “Make sure nothing is traceable,” he orders, returning to our conversation once Ivy leaves. “He can speculate all he wants. As long as it doesn’t trace it back to us, it will be fine.”
He hangs up, and now I have to make a phone call I dread.
Lorenzo Amanté is not a friend. He’s a client who I took on after Matteo Amanté stepped down from his role in the family business.
His role being straight out of The Godfather.
The man ran the whole mafia.
But after Matteo stepped down, his cousin Lorenzo took his place.
Now he runs the whole fucking show while Matteo runs the legitimate side of things.
I can barely believe that this is where my life went after what my father did, but I don’t regret it.
I like the power.
Even if it comes with scary motherfuckers on speed dial.
I hit the call button and wait for Lorenzo to answer.
“Aldridge.”
“I need to see you.”
We’re a lovely bunch, us two. Full of manners and good vibes.
“Well, that sounds ominous,” he clips out, and I think I hear a muffled gunshot in the background before he returns to the conversation at hand. “Did you lose all my money? Because if you did—”
“I know. I know. You won’t be happy,” I taunt, knowing full well he would probably cut off my hands if that happened.
