Page 97 of Devil's Tulip

Marco kills the engine, and I don’t wait. I unlock the door and get out on my own. When we walk into the warm lobby, I’m met with something I wasn’t expecting. The entire staff—twenty exhausted, overworked people—stand there with their director, waiting.

I scan the room, taking in their weary, hopeful faces before leveling a look at the man in charge—Pete Langhorne, if I’m not mistaken. “I asked for a meeting with you, not your employees,” I remind him.

“Yes sir, I know. But we’re one big family here, and we all wanted to give you a warm welcome to your new home.”

Family.My jaw tightens in disgust. The last thing I’d ever do is mix business with sentiment. I flick a glance at Lorenzo and give him a subtle nod. He scribbles quickly into his tablet,understanding my unspoken command. As soon as the hospital is mine, I’m getting rid of the entire staff.

“Let’s go to your office for the meeting, Peter. We don’t have much time,” I say, already leading the way.

I don’t need a tour. After studying the blueprint and hacking into the pathetic excuse for a security system, I know every corner of this decrepit hospital better than he does.

“It’s Pete, sir,” he mumbles behind me, quickly dropping his gaze when I turn to glare at him. What the hell difference is there between Peter and Pete?

I push into his office and make my way straight to the wooden desk, claiming the leather chair behind it like I already own the place.

Peter hovers awkwardly, looking a little lost, so I wave at him to take the chair across from me. After a brief hesitation, he sits, while Lorenzo stands guard at the door behind him.

I get straight to the point. “Tell me, how did you manage to run this place into the ground? It seemed to be thriving just a few years ago.”

Peter’s mouth works uselessly for several infuriating seconds before he glances back at Lorenzo for help. A big mistake, since Lorenzo isn’t here to assist him—he’s here for me alone. The last thing he’s going to do is throw a lifeline to a man who’s already on his way out.

Though not just yet. I’ll keep Peter around long enough to guide my Gianna through the transition. Once she’s got a solid grip on running this place, he’ll be out the door faster than he can sayrun.

“Well, you see, the economy has been going downhill for a while, and most people are on insurance now, and you know how these insurance companies are—they never want to fork out money, and it’s been a battle that I?—”

His rambling dies when I raise a hand. “All I’m hearing is excuses. Excuses, excuses. And quite frankly, I don’t give a shit how you managed to run this place down, Peter. It was a rhetorical question.” What matters is that by the end of this week, the deed to this place is in Gianna’s name and in my hands.

He gulps audibly, and as he opens his mouth—no doubt to offer more pathetic justifications—an alert goes off on my phone.

I stiffen, instantly recognizing the tone as the one programmed into my search software.

Could it be Emilia?

I yank my phone out, heart pounding—only to feel an immediate, sharp stab of disappointment.

Not Emilia.

It’s about those four assholes from the club. The vermin who have been going on a rampage, destroying the medications my brothers and I brought into the city—twisting something meant to save lives into a tool for destruction.

I scan their location details, a cold smile forming on my lips. Club Harare. One of the clubs I used to frequent back in the day, and although it’s in Romero’s territory in Brooklyn, I still have some jurisdiction there. Enough to handle these bastards myself.

Time to go hunting.

I tuck my phone away and push up from my seat. “Listen, Peter, something has come up that I need to attend to right now. But I want this hospital of yours, and rest assured that by the end of the day, my lawyer will be in touch with you.”

Peter practically leaps up, nodding so fast it’s pathetic. “Of course, sir! Thank you! Thank you so much?—”

His thanks ring hollow in my ears as I walk out. I’m sure he won’t feel so grateful once he finds out my conditions for taking over this place.

I call Romero on the drive over to Harare.

“Michael.” Romero’s voice lacks its usual playful edge when he answers. “I’m a little busy right now.”

I check my watch with a frown. Past 4 PM. Is he still at court this late?

Regardless of his location, he’s clearly occupied, so I cut straight to business. “The men I’m after are in your territory. Let your guys know I’m coming over and to cooperate.”

“Of course,fratello. They already know to cooperate with all my brothers, but I’ll send out a message to them right away.”

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