AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Any info on him?”
“Yeah. At the end of the file.”
I swipe to the last pages of the file.
My rage boils with each word that I read.
Dale Bass, Isabetta’s father, is a piece of shit who owes more people than he’ll ever be able to pay off in the next three lifetimes. Selling his daughter to Caruso is only buying him a bit of time, but eventually, his debts will catch up to him. I don’t give two shits about that. What has me raging is the other part where it talks about how many times Isabetta’s mother was in the hospital with suspicious injuries before she died in childbirth. The same kind of injuries Isabetta herself has been seen for.
The disappointment I felt moments ago turns into loathing… for myself. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge her.
Brooks says, “Caruso has just as many shady dealings, though he’s a bit better at keeping it hidden. We’ll have to do a lot of clean-ups if he actually gets in.”
“Why in the fuck does the Brotherhood want this fucker to join? And don’t say it’s the money. We all know there are workarounds.”
Like marrying her off to a current member who’s single. Hell, I’m the only Elite Member who isn’t married… why not me?
I still at the thought, liking it more than I should.
“He either knows someone or has something on someone.”
I grunt.
“Why are you so interested in this? There are worse men who are already members of the Brotherhood. Is this because you’re on the council now?”
“I know her.” At his confused look, I clarify, “The heiress. I met her by chance ten years ago.”
He whistles under his breath. “She must have made quite an impression if you’re still getting worked up over her.”
“She did.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
His gaze searches mine. “I’ve got your back, Ace.”
Brooks and I enter the restaurant where we’re meeting Caruso. He’s picked a well-known steakhouse, trying to flaunt his wealth. No, not his wealth. Isabetta’s wealth. My fist clenches at my side as we approach the table where he sits.
He quickly stands when he realizes we’re there. There’s nothing remarkable or outstanding about him. He’s nearly a foot shorter than me, with dark hair that’s cut short and yet still somehow greasy. He wears designer clothes, but I can tell right away that they’re older, because he can’t afford to buy new wardrobes each year. His face is puffy because of all the booze he drinks. I know this because I’ve learned everything I could about him on the plane ride. And I don’t like a single thing about this fucker.
“Brooks Henderson! A pleasure to meet you in person.” Caruso’s gaze darts to me. “I didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”
“This is Mr. Moretti, an Elite Member. He was in town, and I thought it would be nice for the two of you to meet.”
If Caruso knows who I am, it doesn’t show on his face.
He holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Moretti.”
“Mr. Moretti,” I correct.
His cheeks flush. “Right.”
A server appears at that moment, bringing another chair so the three of us can be seated.
Caruso gestures to his wine glass that’s nearly empty. “Would the two of you like something to drink?”
“Macallan neat,” I tell the server. “81, if you have it, and we’ll take the entire bottle.”
