Page 33 of Vito

Creed chose not to be part of the criminal parts of our world, but he's still interested in stopping human trafficking in our territory. He's especially invested because of what Sophie was rescued from.

Images of finding Tahlia Voss—the dead, abused woman in the trunk of Havel's car—makes my seethe, and swallow down my fury. "He was low-level and had nothing to share."

Gilly's is a secure place and is swept for bugs religiously, but I still keep some anonymity to my words. Creed understands what I mean, and he sighs heavily.

"Look, Creed. Shut this out. Focus on Triple S and bask in her sweetness. Remind yourself of the goodness in your life."

"You going soft on me, Vito?"

I'm not going soft, but I witnessed something last night when we were all at our parents' estate for dinner. Creed, thinking he had Sophie alone, had his hand splayed over her belly, looking at it in wonder, then he kissed her gently, still cupping her stomach. I didn't let them know I had accidentally stumbled upon their private, intimate moment, and I keep my mouth shut now, too.

If I'm right, there will be an announcement soon about a new little Santoro, and Creed doesn't need to worry about this dark shit.

I hear Creed softly say, 'Angel,' and know he's talking to Sophie. This reaffirms my resolve that Creed should not worry about this. He has a world of light and good now.

"Give Triple S a kiss from her favorite brother-in-law."

"Will do. See you soon."

As I hang up, I think again of Creed's expression last night as he held Sophie's stomach. I'm happy for my baby brother, and I'll love being an uncle. However, the thought of being a father makes me shudder. I've never had any urge to be one nor can I picture myself as one.

There's more pressure on Massimo to marry and produce heirs as the Don, but he doesn't have any plans for the near future. For a while,Mammawas a bit wedding-crazed, trying to play matchmaker for us boys, butBabbostopped those painful and useless dinners. Daughters-in-law and grandbabies are all Gina Santoro wants, though. So, if Creed and Sophie start popping out babies, that will at least keepMammacontent for a bit.

I stand, my eyes moving over Eden without stopping, but I drink in every detail. Massimo shifts, and I eye him as I approach.

The topic of marriage and babies is on my mind as I regard my oldest brother. He might not marry for love, but for alliance and strengthening our family. He won't buck it if he needs to marry for business purposes, which is common in our world. Massimo is also strategic and cunning, and I know he'll choose well.

Stepping to Massimo's side, I look at Eden with hooded eyes. My face is unreadable, shielding the intense and dirty thoughts that rush forth now that she's right in front of me. She's close enough to touch; I can smell the faint coconut of her shampoo. My cock hardens, and I adjust my jacket to cover the bulge straining in my jeans.

Eden bends down to reach for my bottle of preferred bourbon. It pleases me that she's anticipating my needs. Although I'm disappointed I don't get to tell her to bend over—that has become my favorite pastime.

Massimo turns to me. "I was updating Ed from the Chamber's latest meeting."

It isn't lost on me that everyone in the bar—staff included—refers to Eden as Ed. I, on the other hand, refuse to.

She pours me a generous tumbler of my bourbon, looking at me with her indifferent expression, completely unaffected by me—which is a mindfuck and should deflate my dick because she's clearly not interested. She pushes the tumbler to me.

The woman is fucking gorgeous.

Hazel eyes, a sharp, angled jawline, and full lips. They get me every single time.

She wears a loose AC/DC T-shirt, but it doesn't hide her magnificent tits that could bring a grown man to his knees. She never dresses to accentuate her body; however, with her rack, and her hourglass figure with those curvy hips and perky ass, it's hard to disguise. She reminds me of Gloria from that TV show, but without the fancy clothes. Eden always wears dark shirts and either jeans or combat pants. Always a pair of flat, thick-treaded boots.

I put the money on the counter for the bourbon. Seeing Hugo walk in, I add more. "Can I also get Hugo's tequila, Eden?"

Massimo looks sharply at me calling her that, and Eden's full lips pull into a frown, but neither of them calls me on my bullshit. Grabbing the drinks, I incline my head in thanks and join Hugo sitting at my table.

"Gracias, amigo." He taps his glass against mine.

As part of the Chamber, we each have areas we control and don't step on each other's toes. If you want weapons, you come through me; if you want cars—to buy or move stolen ones—you go through the Saints. Drugs are the Triads and the Fire Clan. The Havoc Guardians have taken a big role in providing 'clean-up' services after the regular contractor got himself and his second-in-command killed. There's power in providing that service because you know where all the bodies are buried, literally.

We each have other monopolies, and we collaborate often, which is why I'm meeting with Hugo tonight. We've been helping the Saints strike against a shit-bag gang—the Mambo Posse—trying to push into the city.

Hugo sips his tequila. "Is the route cut off?"

He's asking if the weapons procurement to the Mambo Posse has been demobilized.

"It is for the city and California, but I can't control if they're getting weapons from elsewhere."

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