Page 209 of Syndicate of Sin Bundle

When the door closed, I reopened Google and searched Alessandro’s name again. I needed something. Anything.

His online footprint nearly didn’t exist.

The whole article was in Italian, and I wasn’t fluent. I only knew the important words.

I pressed my lips together and hoped for the best as I hit the Translate button on the bottom of the screen. His name didn’t appear until the end. He had been granted one whole sentence.

26-year-old Alessandro Russo from Sicily—allegedly connected with the Sicily Mafia—was released from prison after serving only thirteen months of his 56-month sentence for drug trafficking.

The article was over two years old, but that didn’t matter. I had dirt on the man, and I intended to get more.

3

chiara

I arrived exactly twenty-five minutes early to the address, just to piss off Alessandro. He was going to regret ever ordering me to stay away from my family’s business. Nobody had dared to talk to me like that, and I hated how easily he had done it.

Alessandro was rude, arrogant even. He probably thought that I’d be a useless mess, but I would prove him, Daddy, and all the other made men wrong. This would go as smoothly as the rest of Daddy’s business deals.

Nobody was at the shipping docks yet, so I had time to run through the plan in my head again. I opened my purse and took out my baby—a 9mm—with my initials etched into the handle. Dad had given it to me for my fifteenth birthday.

The gun was loaded, all seventeen rounds ready to go in case anyone who wasn’t involved with the business decided to show up. Daddy had said gangs would try to take some of the shipments when they were being moved.

After placing the gun back in my purse, I applied another coat of red lipstick and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my beige Misha Nonoo silk shirt. Whoever said a woman needed to dress conservatively to get the attention of a well-respected man obviously didn’t know the power of red lips and a 9mm.

When two-fifty a.m. rolled around, the lot was still empty. I sighed, resting my head against the seat, and grasped the steering wheel. If Alessandro didn’t show up, then I would do this by myself. I wouldn’t fuck up like he expected me to.

Daddy was giving me one chance, and he already didn’t believe in me.

3:00 a.m.

3:01 a.m.

3:14 a.m.

Empty.

I clenched my hand around the steering wheel. That stronzo had probably given me the wrong address so I wouldn’t show up, making me look bad. Then, he could snitch on me to Daddy.

For the next three hours, I sped to every dock in all of New York City. My tires screeched around each corner. I messaged Alessandro. I messaged all of the guys I knew who would be at the dock this morning. I even thought about messaging Daddy, but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t have this under control.

Everyone seemed to want to fuck me over today.

The cobalt sky faded to powder blue over some of the buildings on the horizon. In less than an hour, rays of light would begin breaking their ways between the skyscrapers, and I had done nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I’d checked every single dock, except one.

West 79th Street.

Cars were leaving, one by one, through different exits. A cargo truck passed me as I sped into the lot. One of Daddy’s men sat in the driver’s seat. He had the damn audacity to wave at me.

I pressed down on the gas. Alessandro was going to regret this!

He was walking to his car with his phone pressed to his ear. I slammed on the brakes, nearly giving myself whiplash, and hopped out of my Benz.

“I will be by later,” he said, gazing up at me. He clicked off the phone and slid it into his pocket. “Reginetta.” A smirk stretched across his lips. “Finally decided to show up.”

I pushed my hands into his chest. “You stronzo! I had to drive around all of New York because you’d told me the wrong address.”

---