Page 23 of Breaking the Annulment

Together, they got everything set up, and with Gita’s help, she was connected to the outside world in no time.

Smiling shyly, Gita clapped when the signal connected. “I’m glad you seem happier tonight, Mrs. Giannopoulos. Mr. Giannopoulos is good to us, and I know he would do anything to make you happy. Family is very important here. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“Nope. You’re amazing, Gita. Please call me Aurelia. Or Auri. That’s what my friends call me.”

Gita nodded her head and slipped out the door, leaving Aurelia alone with her new toy. Almost giddy with excitement, she ran to the dresser, opened the bottom drawer and reached to the back, where she’d hidden Michalis’s credit card. She would bet money the little green piece of plastic had no spending limit.

Stripping out of her dress, she quickly wrapped herself in a new clean towel, then jumped in bed, grabbed the laptop, and got busy.

“Let’s see.Chanel? Louis Vuitton? Dolce & Gabbana?So many to choose from…Who first? I think I’ll start with the basics and work my way out.”

She typed in a website and began her shopping spree. “Luxury lingerie. Hmm… Satin-trimmed, embroidered tulle underwire bra with matching panties––five-hundred thirty dollars.” She laughed. “Add to cart? Yes, please.”Click.“Color? Hmm…I’ll take a set in every color.”Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

She laughed evilly. “You want a wife, Mr. Giannopoulos? You got one. Let’s see how long you want to keep me around when I’ve spent all your money.”

By the time she finished shopping, she was exhausted yet deeply satisfied. Packages would start arriving Monday morning. She had, of course, paid for expedited shipping.

For the first time in nearly a week, the smile on her lips was genuine.

Michalis

Midnight arrivedwith a crescendo of lightning over the city. Michalis’s SUV, along with two more SUV’s, cut through the streaming rain, each swipe of the wiper blade escalating the tension inside the vehicles.

Antonio Bonetti, heir apparent to the Bonetti crime family, would be waiting in a private room belowLa Sirena, a popular restaurant owned by the Bonetti family.

There was no love lost between the families, and Michalis had been surprised when the request to meet came through their back channels.

A bold neon sign glowed faintly in the wet gloom as they pulled into the parking lot. Michalis stepped out into the rain, along with five of his men and his brother, Dimitris; enoughmuscle to be threatening, yet not enough if either party intended to start another war. Their truce was fragile, the families equally matched in strength and numbers. Antonio would get the message.

They were all discreetly armed beneath their suits, and ready to fight their way out if the meeting was a trap. Michalis led the way to the back entrance, away from unsuspecting patrons who were chatting happily beneath their umbrellas as they waited to get in on one of the busiest nights of the week, ambient music playing quietly through mounted speakers. The upscale restaurant was evidently quite popular.

Michalis stopped a few feet from the back door and waited. There was no need to knock. Whoever was monitoring the camera pointed directly at them had already seen them arrive. Less than a minute passed before a loud security lock opened, the grating of steel on steel setting his teeth on edge. Rusty hinges groaned as the door opened.

He stepped through, closely followed by Dimitris, then the others. They were escorted down the stairs and into a large room tastefully decorated with modern furniture and expensive artwork. Meetings in dark alleyways were a thing of the past, especially with the type of surveillance equipment the feds used. Michalis had no doubt that the room they were meeting in would be completely secure, with dense outer steel walls, soundproofing, and signal jamming. Just in case Bonetti was wearing a wire or the room was bugged, they’d brought their own jammers.

Antonio didn’t keep them waiting long. He strode in, accompanied by six men, an equal match to what Michalis had, and extended his hand in greeting. “Michalis. Dimitris.”

Michalis had no patience for cordialities, but there were some things in his world that could not be overlooked, and this was one of them. He briefly shook Antonio’s hand, sizing theman up. Antonio was not unlike himself. Tall, heavily muscled, dark hair, early thirties; although he had a thin, faded scar near the corner of his left eye that ran diagonally to the middle of his ear. This man was no stranger to pain.

“Why are we here, Antonio?”

The corner of Antonio’s mouth twitched. “I’d heard you were direct, not much for pleasantries.” He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I’ll try not to waste much of your time, then.”

He walked to the bar and poured three shots of Fireball whisky, then came back and held them out. Michalis debated whether he wanted to take one. If he was holding a shot glass, he couldn’t be holding his gun, which was presumably the whole point.Smart man.

Reluctantly, he and Dimitris took the whisky.

Antonio raised his shot glass in toast. “To better days.”

Michalis tossed back the fiery liquor in one gulp. The heavy cinnamon flavor tasted like heaven but going down, burned like hell.

“I hear the Romanians are in town.” Antonio began matter-of-factly.

“I’ve heard the same. Get to the point.”

Antonio nodded. “All right. Fair enough. Seven years ago, a lot of people ended up dead, including some of my guys that got caught in the crossfire, so if there’s about to be a repeat, I’d appreciate a heads up.”

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