Page 17 of Capo

I look between him and the girl and smirk. Suddenly I know why I have her standing there naked, even if it wasn’t intentional. Sure, I’m distracted, but it’ll be nothing compared to what my visitors will be. “No. It’s a fucking perfect time. Go on.”

Eric shakes his head. “You and your whores.”

A ripple moves through her body at Eric’s words. She didn’t like that, huh? “Yes. You know what I like.”

Eric scoffs.

“Russians,” I say. “I’m all ears.”

Eric proceeds to brief me about Moscow as I keep an eye on the antique clock standing on a bookshelf to the side. I have a whole slew of people to meet today.

“So we have a contact? An in?” I finally conclude.

“Exactly.”

“Have him come here. We’ll pay the expenses. Set him up at the Hilton, feed him drugs, girls, guys, whatever the fuck he wants. Keep him happy. I want to meet him. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have more meetings. I have the whole fucking afternoon filled.”

Eric stands, his lips curling in an expression of distaste. “I’m happy I don’t live your life.”

“You better not wish for it. Go home and take care of your lady. She was a pain the last couple of weeks you were gone.”

“What’d she do?” Eric’s posture goes rigid as he frowns.

I wave dismissively. “Nothing. You’ve trained her well. It’s that wistful look I just can’t stand. As if she misses you.”

A hint of a smile tilts up one corner of his mouth, then he snorts and turns. “Later, Luci.”

I tilt my chin up at his retreating back as I narrow my eyes. Russians. A somewhat new player to deal with. Well old, but forgotten about by all of us. Stupidly enough. I’m lucky to have Eric, and Ivan, and a few more of my closest men when I can’t have eyes and ears everywhere.

Waiting for Ivan to send in the next man I’m meeting with, I get up and pace the room as I look at the now shivering backside of Chloe Becker. My mind goes to Eric’s woman, Anna Raymond. I wonder what it feels like having someone so devoted to you that they can barely eat when you’re gone. I’ll never experience that. I don’t even know what love feels like. Without noticing where my feet have taken me, I find myself standing a few inches behind Chloe, almost feeling the heat of her skin against my chest. I wonder if I can train someone, break someone so badly, that they’ll become totally and irrevocably dependent on me. Missing me because I’m all they know. I can be tender. When I want. But I need their pain too. I’ve never tried to shatter someone long-term, to actually keep them here and break them down, day by day, with pain, lack of sleep, lack of food, the whole brainwashing procedure. I wonder if I’d have the patience.

I think of the night a few days ago, when I worked out in the gym after Christian had woken me up. I had sent the redhead away and regretted it. Could I have someone living here? Being mine, at my disposal night and day? My eyes follow the defined muscles on each side of Chloe’s spine, down to the delectable dimples above her very fuckable ass and my cock stirs. I’d want her to come to me, to beg me, plead with me to take her.

This woman is already broken, her life forfeit. She looks like shit now, but normally she’s a fucking beauty. Could I?

I spin around and stride over to my desk, pushing the button on the intercom. “Ivan.”

“Sir?”

“How did she get here?”

“I’ll find out, sir.”

“Good. My next visitor?”

“He’s late.”

At first, I’m at a loss for words. That’s bold. “Who is he?”

“A Devon Jones.”

I look down on my laptop and type it in. He owes me money. He was supposed to pay up. “I’ll send you for him later. Bring in the next.”

“Will do, sir.”

The next couple of hours, I sit through one meeting after the other. Businesses are exchanged, we agree on illegal casinos, legal night clubs, construction and real estate contracts, raising the sum we pay to a few of the higher-level detectives in the police force. There are huge gun deals, small time drug dealers to handle and either rein in or kill off. Someone’s been harassing hookers and we have that part of the city secured in exchange for a percent of their income. The girls are too dirty and run-down to work for me, but there is money to be made. Always money. Always staying on top of the food chain. Always putting fear in others.

No one has been unaffected by the bruised, naked girl standing to the side. Some have lusted for her, a couple of men asked if she is available. Most looked horrified. I’ve cut good deals today and she has clearly been useful. I’ll keep that in mind.

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