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Chapter 2
Renzo
While I’m checking the status of all the shipments with Elio, I hear Giulio’s infectious laughter as he spars with Fabrizio and Vincenzo.
“Giulio, it’s no use sparing,” I mutter. “I’ll never make you a guard.”
He stops mid-punch and pulls a disgruntled face. “Come on, Renzo. I’m almost as good as Fabrizio and Vincenzo.”
I let out a snort while Vincenzo says, “You wish.” Just to prove his point, he swipes Giulio’s feet from under him, making him fall on his ass.
Elio’s booming laughter fills the air as he shakes his head, his tone filled with sarcasm as he drawls, “Yeah, you’ve gotten real good.”
With a scowl, Giulio climbs to his feet. “I was caught off guard.”
Getting up from the chair, I say, “Elio, make sure the shipment to China isn’t late. The contract with the Triads is important.”
“Will do, boss.”
When I walk to the door, Giulio catches up to me. “Where are we going?”
“The restaurant,” I reply as I leave the warehouse.
“For lunch?” he asks. “I’m starving. Sparring with the guys has worked up an appetite.”
I shoot him a glare. “No. To check that everything is running smoothly. Do you ever not think of food?”
“Of course. When I’m training to become your guard, I don’t think about food at all.”
Letting out a sigh, I say, “You’re my driver, and that’s the end of the discussion.”
Giulio’s only twenty years old. His father, Santino, was my father’s driver until he passed away from a heart attack a couple of years ago. Since then, Giulio’s practically been my shadow, and to keep him busy, I made him my driver.
Growing up, I saw more of Santino than my own father, and I always considered Giulio family.
By being around me, he’s slowly learning everything about the business, and when he’s ready, I’ll make him Elio’s underboss.
I’m close with many people, but Giulio’s like a little brother to me, which means I’m protective of him.
Sure, I care about all my men, but there’s a handful I love like they’re my own blood. Elio, Francisco, Vincenzo, and Giulio are right at the top, along with the other heads of the Cosa Nostra.
Giulio opens the door of the black Bentley, and after I climb inside, he shuts it and hurries around the front of the car to get in behind the steering wheel.
As he drives us away from the warehouse, he’s quiet.
Five minutes away from La Torrisi, the restaurant I opened when I was twenty-one, Giulio asks, “Why?”
Keeping my gaze on the view outside the window, I say, “Why won’t I let you be my guard?”
“Yes.”
“Because it’s my job to protect you. Not vice versa.”
“But –”
“Enough, Giulio,” I snap. “Christ.”
When he parks the car in front of the restaurant, his tone is remorseful when he says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Glancingover his shoulder, his eyes meet mine. “I just want to be able to keep you safe.”
