Page 7 of Ruthless Beast

“Okay, great. Thank you. You’re doing a good job. Keep it up.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, before you go,” I say while David is heading for the door.

“Yes?” he says as he turns to face me.

“I’m having a small get together at my place next weekend. It would be good if you would attend. I’d like to introduce you to a few people.”

“Thank you, Lucas. I’ll be there.”

“Needless to say, David, I assume you understand that you will be working exclusively for our organization from now on. Of course, I’ll compensate you if there are private clients you have to let go of. We’re going places, and I need your undivided attention.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Samantha will send you an invite for the weekend. Bring someone, if you like.”

He nods and leaves the office.

“Sam!” I call through the open door.

“Yes, Mr. Lucchese,” she says when she enters the office.

“I need you to take a few notes, please.”

“Of course.”

“Please contact this catering company,” I say, handing her a business card, “and arrange a few menu options for roughly a hundred people for next Saturday. I’ll email you the guest list I want you to send invitations to.”

“Of course. Do you have a theme in mind?”

“Let’s keep it semi-casual.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

It will be my first function as the new boss. I prefer to keep things on the down low. In my experience, people feel more comfortable that way and are more likely to let slip what’s on their mind. A smart leader keeps his ear to the ground. That’s where the watercooler gold’s at.

I’ll ply my guests with good food and expensive drinks while I sit back and watch. I didn’t get here by missing a damn thing. Managing people is what I do best.

* * *

It’s been a few days since Andreas and I met in my office, and he’s delivered the info he’s collected on a few of the people as I had requested.

I shake my head as I page through the files. Let it never be said that mobsters are altar boys. There are a few sketchy customers in this pile, but at least there are no major surprises.

I reach for my coffee, and my shirt’s cuff catches on one of the files, which consequently falls to the floor, spilling its contents.

“Damn it.”

A face catches my eye when I bent down to retrieve the scattered photos. It’s that of a young woman, whom I reckon to be in her early twenties. She’s stunning, and I can’t help but give the photo a second look.

Who is she? I look at the outside of the file. It’s the Thronton folder. This must be his sister. She’s exquisite. I collect the photos and place them on my desk so I can look through them at my leisure.

I see the resemblance now. The woman has David’s piercing blue eyes and full lips. In one of the photos, she’s wearing her hair up in a bun, exposing her sleek, olive skinned, swan-like neck. I can’t stop staring at the photo of this rare beauty.

This isn’t like me. I’m not the kind of guy who gets obsessed with women, but there’s something about this girl that has me spellbound. I look through the notes Andreas provided on the Thornton siblings.

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