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“What is this problem?” I ask him quietly, nodding politely to the friend of Maria’s, who’s running for senator, when he passes.
“Samuele is here,” he informs me with the same worried look on his face as Gioele.
Samuele Benetti claims to be my competitor, but that’s him talking shit. I’ll give him his credit, though, the guy's picked himself up over the past few years. He has a few houses and many women, but he runs a far less classy enterprise than I do. He’s much more of a pimp than an entrepreneur.
My brother must fear him and his family because he shows him far too much respect. Samuele makes the mistake of expecting the same treatment from me.
He’s still young, immature, and relies too much on his family name. The Benetti’s used to make their money out of narcotics. I’ve always stayed out of their affairs, and they’ve stayed out of mine. Until their youngest hotshot decided he wanted to expand into my field of business.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I throw the question between Ricardo and Gioele.
“Hell knows, but I will warn you, the last thing I heard was he was purchasing firearms,” Gioele speaks up.
“Russians?” I maintain a low voice so Riley doesn’t hear, although when I check, she’s far too distracted by one of Maria’s obscure paintings.
“Not directly. The Russians run their supply through a motorcycle gang based east of here.” He tells me that as if I should care. I have no interest in fake motorcycle enthusiasts dealing weapons to make a quick buck. What I do have an interest in is Samuele being at the same party as me. A very legitimate party, with very legitimate guests. And one I’ve chosen to bring Riley to.
“Does he have men here?” I check, relieved when Ricardo shakes his head.
“We’ll have no trouble from him here, boss.” He shifts his suit jacket slightly, allowing Gioele to see that he’s carrying.
“Looks like baby Benetti is trying to build himself an empire.” I snigger, looking over my shoulder to check Riley again. I should never have brought her here, but in my defense, how could I have predicted that my two very different business worlds would cross paths at one of Maria’s cocktail parties? The woman’s so straight she doesn’t even offer out blow to her guests.
“I can’t leave now— he’ll let it go to his head,” I think out loud, and Gioele nods his agreement.
“Maybe he’s here because he wishes to talk on neutral ground,” he suggests. “You remember what happened last time you two talked?” He raises one of his bushy eyebrows at me.
I remember it well. Samuele lost two of his men that day. You’d think the boy would have learned his lesson.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Ricardo asks.
“We act normal, and you keep your eye on the girl at all times without being obvious,” I instruct. I don’t have to explain to him what the consequences of having Riley here are now.
“And if he approaches you?” Ricardo checks.
“Then let him approach. Maybe he will have something interesting to say.” I shrug before making my way over to where Riley has drifted too far from me.
She’s tilting her head sideways now, still trying to make something out of the so-called modern art in front of her.
“Everything okay? That guy was kind of intense.” Either she’s forgotten she’s mad at me, or she’s decided to drop her pretentious little act.
“That’s Gioele. He’s always intense,” I explain, trying to maintain calm. The last thing I want is her picking up on the atmosphere.
“You have any idea what it is?” she nods toward the canvas full of odd shapes and colors that clash.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be anything. You’re supposed to make your own judgment.” I keep my eye on the room as I talk.
“Okay, so what do you think it is?” she asks curiously, and when I look back at her, I have to give myself credit. When I picked this dress for her, I chose it well. The electric blue makes her sapphire irises pop while complimenting her hair color and skin tone. The cut makes her body look even more fuckable than it does in one of my shirts.
A little too fuckable, in my opinion.
Every man in the room is thinking the same thing as I am, and what I find most intriguing is that Riley is oblivious to it.
“I think it’s overrated and that whoever purchased it clearly has too much money.” I give her my honesty, placing my hand into the arch of her back and guiding her away. Perhaps I’m being paranoid, but I can feel eyes on us.
I lead her into one of the quieter rooms of the house. Maria has once again excelled herself, creating privacy for her guests by hanging expensive deep-colored fabrics from the ceiling to separate the large room into smaller, more intimate sections. Taking two fresh glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, I move us toward a secluded corner and take a seat on one of the leather couches, while Ricardo takes his position beside the draped fabric so he has a good view of the room. I hope to get some alone time with Riley before someone bothers me with mindless property investment conversation.
We’re sheltered enough from the rest of the party in this corner that I’m tempted to explore her again. The same way I’d started to in the car before my conscience stopped me. When she called me out about being scared, I wanted to hurt her for her accusations, mostly because she was right. The girl seems to have me all figured out, and it unnerves me.
