Page 79 of His Bride

“Please.” I level him with a glare.

“The rumors are he’s unable to recover from the terrible shooting. After all, the culprit still walks. It makes you appear—in certain circles—weak.”

Isaia cuts me a sharp look, and I bite back my words.

“We do have a peace in Chicago,” Isaia says, “one we don’t wish to rock.”

He frowns. “I only mention it because some other business associates of ours are on edge. If Del Rossa falls, then deals are lost and people will be left scrambling to make the right alliances. And this Le Fonti character is making waves.”

“He’s a piece of shit and a coward.” The words slip out—but it feels fantastic to say it out loud.

“I do not want the Dark Sovereign to be seen as vulnerable,” the man says with his thick Italian accent, sipping his drink, his gold wedding band glinting. “It is very bad for business.”

“So is indulging in gossip,” Nicoli says as he strolls in wearing his best impression of Alexius—all steel and control.

Enzo stands out of respect. “Alexius. It’s good to see you looking so…healthy.” He reaches over to shake his hand.

My brother hesitates for a perfect amount of time and then shakes. “I’m glad I can assist in putting all these rumors to rest.”

“I meant no disrespect.”

I love watching our Italian pimp squirm. It amazes me how Alexius—or Alexius version two-point-O—can make a grown man shrink with just a few clipped words.

“My mother died, and I had to deal with that. Mourning is to be respected, as you know.” Nicoli dumps an iPad in front of our Italian visitor, helps himself to Alexius’s favorite drink, and goes to sit behind his desk, looking every part the fucking king.

He gestures toward the iPad, staring at Enzo. “Take it. Bookmark the girls on there, and we can arrange for you to meet them tonight. Usual rules apply. If a girl doesn’t wish to relocate, that’s her choice.”

“Last time, three of my choices didn’t want to relocate. Such a pity.” Enzo’s tone suggests he’d like us to bend the rules a little, and Nicoli picks up on it immediately.

Leaning back in his seat, he rolls his hands together in front of him. “You know how it works. We save the girls, and whatever happens with them after is up to them. With us, they’re given choices. Don’t like how we do things, I suggest you find yourself another job.”

Enzo holds up his hands. “No need. I’ll browse the catalogue.”

For the next twenty minutes, they discuss the girls, what the Italian men are looking for, which sounds pretty much like what most of the punters here want. Hot, pliant, and very willing. ButI can see the girls he chooses. Blondes with big tits, a couple of redheads with big tits, and brunettes…with big tits. Cliched picks for horny fuckers all around the world.

When he returns the iPad to Nicoli, he flicks through it, then sends the selection to the club.

Enzo glances around. “Is Nicoli joining us?”

Isaia looks at me, and I narrow my eyes, but Nicoli handles it. “My brother’s in Italy with his wife. I know he’s been handling club business for a while, but you requested to see me, so here I am.”

“Alexius,” Enzo says, “this man who shot you.”

“Aurelio,” I grit.

Enzo nods. “I understand peace and keeping the status quo, but surely?—”

“Know your fucking place, Enzo,” Nicoli warns in his best Alexius fucked-off voice. “He threatened our wives, one of them pregnant. Aurelio won’t get away with a thing, but revenge has layers, repercussions. I will deal with this my way, in my time.”

“I’m sorry, but people get nervous. There are so many deals and reputations on the line.”

Nicoli doesn’t answer straight away, and then he finally meets the man’s eyes. “If you or your concerned parties wish to dissolve our arrangements, they can. But know that if they don’t stand with us, they stand against us.” Then he throws back his drink and stands. “Club Myth, gentlemen?”

I start to stand but Enzo doesn’t. “Where’s your wife? Leandra? I wish to greet her.”

The tension suddenly ratchets up in the room, and I don’t move.

Nicoli does.

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