Page 66 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

But Natalie isn’t the type to mindlessly follow orders. She’ll ask questions, ones I can’t answer without tipping my hand. She’ll see through any excuse I throw at her. And if I push too hard, she’ll fight me on it.

I exhale sharply, rubbing my temple as frustration simmers just beneath the surface.

She doesn’t know she’s in danger.

But I do.

Andgod, does it make me worry. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.

***

I’m on my way home when I get a call from Luna Royale. It’s Leonard, and I immediately assume that my cousin has gone to do some more fucked up shit.

“Is it contained?” I ask as I respond, tapping Paul, my driver, and muttering about the change of location. “Is he still at the club?”

“The prosecutor?” Leonard whispers. “Yeah. He said if he leaves, he’s going to come back with enough evidence to shut down the place.

I’m confused. Prosecutor? I thought this was about Anthony making a fool of himself and the Cross name. But—fuck.It hits me. He’s talking about Joe Geller.

My fingers curl tight around my phone, and the metal digs into my palm. Annoyance and ire at having to disrupt my schedule over something that minor lodges like a pest in my chest, but I also know Ishouldn’tignore it.

“What does he want?”

“To see you, boss,” Leo replies. “He’s not alone. There are three of them and a ton of papers. We got a heads-up, so I cleared out a section before they arrived.”

The bastards. They’re nothing more than a headache, but even aches can become persistent. You either have to remove them… or remove them. There’s no other option.

I’ve been playing it easy for too long.

The car does a sharp U-turn, pushing me along the chair. I rub my temple. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes—”

“Did Anthony stop by today?” I inject.

“No, boss. He’s been absent for a while.”

I’m not about to mistake Anthony’s inactivity as a lesson learned. I know he’s stalling, waiting for the right moment to show up again.

Well,I might have something for him. I could do it my way—keep the leaches from the door by burying the gold hard enough that they wouldn’t find anything, but they’ve proven to be unrelenting pests.

Getting Joe Geller to back off, especially when his history of illegal activities, would shake the prosecution’s office, but I’m past being civil.

In some way, my father was right. You don’t wait for people to make mistakes before you put them in their place.

And they’ve crossed too many damn lines.

After the call with Leonard, I sent a simple message to Anthony.

“Meet me at Royale. No guns.”

He sends me one back as though he’s been waiting at the phone, probably tapping his feet and drumming his fingers. “I thought you’d never ask.”

When I walk in, Joe Geller and two other men I don’t care to recognize are in my office, and I motion for Leonard to give us some privacy. Three men are outside the office, and three more are downstairs, holding back any unexpected visitors.

He nods, walks out, and closes the door behind him. In the time it took to get here, my ire has turned to quiet rage, partly from the audacity and some from self-criticism.

I let it get this far. I let him think I was approachable.

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