Page 6 of Under His Protection

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DANTE

Dante

Although the Hound and Tea brought in mediocre sales, the building was far too profitable to ever consider closing it. The private, top-secret gambling rooms on the second and third floors of the building raked in significant amounts of money. It also served as a common ground for men to speak freely. Countless business deals were struck in these rooms. I’d personally arranged multiple transactions and agreements across the tables.

I didn’t go through the rooms often. Romeo sometimes liked to supervise the happenings there, and tonight, I joined him and Franco. Most of the men were acquaintances of mine anyway, and those who weren’t fell under the category of my enemies. They warranted a closer look.

Stefan Giovanni sat in the corner, speaking with a couple of capos, and I wasn’t sure how to classify him anymore.

As soon as he caught my attention, he tipped his chin up in acknowledgment.

I fought the urge to curl my lip in annoyance. Instead of turning away, I walked nearer to say hello. If he was intent on becoming my enemy, all the better to keep him close.

“What brings you by?” Stefan asked after we greeted each other.

Other than the fact that this is my fucking establishment? I kept my hands in my pockets, cool and aloof as I shrugged. “No specific reason.” What brings you by? More to the point, I wanted to know why he was so curious about my actions. Was he trying to keep tabs on me?

“Haven’t chatted in a while,” he said, almost as indifferently as I had spoken.

“I’m a busy man, Stefan,” I replied as I noticed Franco summoning me to come toward him. “Excuse me.” I nodded at the men he sat with and left to speak with my capo.

“What was that about?” he asked as I reached him at one of the many small bars. He kept his voice to a whisper, and we both hid our mouths behind our glasses.

“What do you mean?”

He arched a brow. “You looked irritated.”

Shit. I’m not hiding my emotions very well. I was a master at disguising my reactions and wearing a blank face. When boredom snuck in, or when I became restless for whatever reason, I tended to slip. “I am. Because if that fucker is here, his daughter will be too.”

He sipped his whisky. “Hmm. I thought maybe you’d heard.”

“About what?”

“That Giovanni was betting with a cheater.” He tilted his head to the side. “Romeo and another floorman caught some idiot cheating.”

Cheats were not allowed to last long in here. It had taken me far too long and required too much money to establish one of the premier gambling locations. I wouldn’t let fools ruin our reputation.

“I’ll deal with him myself,” I said, eager for the chance to inflict some pain. Maybe that was all I needed, a chance to vent and release this bottled-up energy I couldn’t explain.

“Careful,” Franco warned. “I had him pulled aside. He’s in the room upstairs.”

I nodded. The fourth floor was reserved for holding people—those caught here and elsewhere. In a large organization like the Constella outfit, we needed multiple places to stow people, both dead and alive.

“Why the caution, then?” It was hardly the first time I’d tortured a moron who’d dared to break the rules on my turf.

“He’s with the MC.”

I clenched my jaw. I was sick and tired of hearing about that motorcycle club. The Devil’s Brothers was a stupid name, and the men making up the “organization” seemed even stupider, ruthless and prone to violence, but inferior to the class we maintained among the older crime families. They were trying to be the new kids on the block. So far, they’d done plenty in killing damn near all of the Dominos. But they weren’t welcome past that point. And they definitely weren’t invited to these gambling rooms—my gambling rooms.

“Who let him in?” I demanded.

Franco shook his head. “Romeo’s asking the men at the door. It sounds like maybe they slipped in with a disguise, but there’s no mistaking the cheat as one of those MC men.”

Great. That’s just fucking great. If I were to torture one of their men, I would be making a statement against them. Reaper, the club’s so-called President, would use anything as an excuse to fight. I didn’t fear them, but I sure as shit didn’t want the headache of putting up with them directly.

“Thank you.” I dipped my chin in acknowledgment and set my empty glass on the bar top.

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