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She’s twenty. I’m forty. I’m the head of a criminal organization. She’s an innocent civilian. It could never work.
I still watch her every day when she leaves; I can’t function until she’s out of sight. She drives away at last and I turn back to my office.
My phone is ringing. I glance at the caller ID – it’s Gianni, my second in command. I answer, my voice steady, betraying none of the overwhelming obsession gnawing at my insides.
“Report,” I command curtly.
“Boss, it’s done. The two debt collectors who went to North’s house are dead, just as you ordered.” Gianni’s voice is even, with respect underlying his words. “They were working for Ivanov though. There could be repercussions.”
“Come to the dealership. We need to discuss something.”
“Already on my way. I’ll be there in five.”
As I end the call, my gaze shifts back to the now empty space where Amelia was moments ago. This dealership, a legitimate front amidst our other, darker ventures, is a kingdom of its own.
She has no idea of the darkness behind the glossy tiled floor and polished windows. She thinks we just sell cars.
I think of the deal I just made with her father and a smile forms on my lips.
I’m still smiling when the door to my office opens, and Gianni steps in.
His presence is as reliable as his character - steadfast, shrewd, a man who’s seen the dark underbelly of our world and never flinched.
He’s not just an underling; he’s my right hand, my enforcer, the one who understands the unspoken language of power and loyalty.
“Boss,” Gianni greets, his voice steady, betraying no emotion. He’s a master at maintaining composure, a trait I’ve always appreciated.
“Sit,” I reply, motioning him to the leather chair across from my desk. “We have a situation that needs handling.”
He sits, his eyes locking onto mine, ready for whatever directive I have. “You’re telling me. We just killed two debt collectors who work for the Russian mob. Ivanov is not going to be happy.”
I lean back in my chair, feeling the weight of the decision I’m about to reveal. “Today, I cleared Adrian North’s substantial debts.” I pause, watching his reaction closely.
He doesn’t disappoint, his brows knitting together in a mix of curiosity and caution. “Amelia’s father? I told you that obsession of yours would get you into trouble.”
I can’t help the slight smirk that curls my lips. “I made a deal with him.”
Gianni sighs, a mix of resignation and loyalty in his eyes. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ve arranged for her to be first up at the auction tonight.”
“Holy shit. You’re buying her virginity?”
“I’ll ensure everyone understands she is off-limits, but you need to be there early to drive the point home. No one is to bid on her except me.”
He nods, the unspoken trust between us as solid as the walls of my office. “I’ll do my best. You better tell Vincent before I start treading on toes.”
Gianni leaves with a nod of understanding as his only goodbye. I pick up the sleek, black phone on my desk, and my fingers move with purpose, dialing a number I know all too well yet rarely call.
The voice that answers is laced with a mix of surprise and cunning – it’s Vincent, the owner of The Velvet Whisper.
“Vincent,” I greet him, my voice cool and controlled.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he replies, his tone a mix of amusement and wariness. “To what do I owe this honor?”
I don’t beat around the bush. “I’ll be attending tonight. Amelia North will be first on stage. Make it known I’ll be claiming her.”
There’s a momentary pause, the cogs turning in Vincent’s mind as he processes my words. “That’s not how auctions work, you know? Richard Delaney’s coming. He’s always a high bidder.”
