Page 67 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

A rookie mistake.

“Mr. Cross,” Geller grins. “So nice of you to finally join us. We were worried that we’d have to wait all day.”

“The level of importance you accord yourself is fascinating, Geller,” I say with forced warmth and much… interest as I lean back, folding my arms loosely.

My gaze pans across the room, from the crooked prosecutor to the others who are no better than him. “For someone who is the spokesperson, you seem to think you are at the center of this wild goose chase. And you know it, or you would’ve come to my office, not the club.”

The cockiness in his eyes falters a tiny bit, but it’s enough to take another stab at him. I don’t intend to do more than that because I have far more pressing issues to attend to.

Leaning forward, I let him feel the brunt of my stare—eyes that don’t blink as they stare into his and the weight of a fury simmering beneath the surface. My lips curl into a mean smirk.

“I’m curious—what do you tell your superiors when they tell you to invade my space?Yes, sir? Yes, ma’am?”My tone turns mocking as it drops. “Because a little birdy told me you’ve been passed over for promotions more times than anyone in your office.

“Is it that they consider you so incompetent, or do you make it a habit of chasing your tail? Then again,” I shrug, turning to the others, “It looks like you’ve added more mutts to your circle. You’ve outdone yourself, alright.”

“We have evidence of fraudulent activities and drug-related crimes,” the man to the left—a sweaty thing wearing a cheap brown suit, speaks with his chest puffed out. “You’re going where you belong, Ethan Cross. So talk smack all you want.”

How interesting.

I wasn’t going to pay them any mind individually, but—

“You,” I nudge my chin at him, “how many legal firms did you apply to before you realized you were a nobody? One, two?” I grin mockingly as I raise five fingers. “Ten?”

The door is thrown open before he can respond—although I doubt he had anything to say—and Anthony strides in, wearing a maniac grin. If my cousin weren’t a Cross, he’d make a perfect henchman.

Unrestrained.

Untrainable.

Only listens togo.

He slaps his palm against my desk with a resounding crack, the kind that makes a man’s spine stiffen. His grin is sharp—too wide, too knowing. “Hi, cousin,” he drawls, his voice like sandpaper over steel. “What’s this? A little peace treaty negotiation?” His gaze flicksto Geller, and his expression shifts, a shadow of recognition darkening his features.

“You,” he points, moving with eerie smoothness, closing the distance until his face is inches from Geller’s. “I know you from somewhere.”

He steps back, tapping his chin as if he’s playing a game, like the answer is just on the tip of his tongue, and he’s savoring the moment before spitting it out.

“He’s the prosecutor,” I say dryly, ending the show before it escalates.

Anthony claps his hands together in a single, jarring slap. “That’s it! That’s how I know you. You’re the motherfucker trying to put my family away.” His smile vanishes in a blink, and before Geller can flinch, he jabs him—hard—right in the chest. Geller stumbles, wheezing, his face paling as he instinctively glances at the door.

The other one—the mouthy one—shifts, his eyes darting between me and the exit. Fight or flight?

“I’ll help you out,” I say, rising from my chair and rounding my desk at a slow, deliberate pace. I roll up my sleeves, flexing my fingers as I approach. “You have two choices. You either walk out of here and tell your bosses you want off this case, or you stay, and Anthony breaks your knees.”

My cousin snorts, rolling his shoulders like a caged animal itching for release. “Not just break them,” he murmurs, voice dark, almost amused. “I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

The prosecutor swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We—we’re prosecutors. We work for the government,” his voice quivers, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. “You won’t get away with this.”

I tilt my head, my smile slow, predatory. “We already have.”

“But,” I wave my hand, “I’ll make it even more comprehensive for you. See this office,” I point to the corners, “the camera feed can be wiped out before you leave. If you came here with any recording device, it’ll be destroyed. And the best part of it?”

I can see the dread written on their faces as I walk to the door and the heaviness of my silence stretching like a net. I pause when I get there and look over my shoulder with a satisfied smile.

“Nobody will care. Not when Geller’s bribery and extortion history comes to light. The story? You two were working with him, and he was feeding intel to the mafia. You’ll be as good as a criminal in the public’s eye.”

How the tables turn nicely.

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