Page 14 of Ruthless King
The Red Dragons have gone unpunished for long enough. First, they invade Little Italy, then they spread their venom across the Lower East Side. It’s not even safe for a woman in the subways anymore.
My mind flickers back to the brunette at the station, and that unfamiliar sensation tugs at my chest. There was something so familiar about her, but I just can’t place the girl. She definitely wasn’t any of the women I associated with. None of the models or socialites I casually dated would ever be caught in a shitty subway station in Little Italy. So who was she? The feeling was so insistent I’d had Tony call in more than a few favors until he tracked her down from the name I’d gotten out of the destroyed textbook. Then, I had him follow her to find out where she lived.
I stare at the post-it note on the vanity. Stella M. 356 Mulberry St. The heart of Little Italy. I knew a Stella once, but it had been nearly a decade since I’d seen her. Bands tighten around my chest, and I draw in a haggard breath.It couldn’t be her.
Mulberry Street wasn’t far from where I’d grown up actually. And a far cry from my new penthouse in the Upper East Side. Old memories invade my mind, and I’m tossed back in time.
“Come on kick the ball, Luca!”
“I’m planning my shot,bastardo, give me a second.” I dribble the soccer ball between my feet, eyeing my friend as he blocks the goal.
“Hurry up, those prep school kids could come out any minute.” He glances over his shoulder at Cambridge Prep.
We’d ditched school and taken the subway to the Upper East Side for a little fun. “What’s the matter, Vinny, you scared of a little tussle?”
“Course not. I’d just rather not piss off Dad. Sometimes he takes it out on me or Stella. He hasn’t been in the best mood since—”
His words cut off, and I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut. It had only been a couple months since my best friend lost his mom. Idiot. Papà’s right, I am acretino.
I curl my knee back, and my foot explodes forward. The ball sails toward the net. Vinny leaps to the right, but it flies right between his hands.
“Gol! Gol!” I shout. “Forza, Italia!”
Vinny pushes himself off the ground, a scowl on his pretty boy face. “Lucky shot.”
I jump at him, throwing my arm around his shoulders. It’s rare I get one past him. The kid is a soccer superstar. I’d never admit it, but he was even better than me. “Luck had nothing to do with it, my friend. Now, come on, I’ll buy you a beer at O’Shea’s.”
He eyes me incredulously, those pale blue eyes shimmering in excitement. “How?”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my newest prized possession. One of Papà’s new hires is a counterfeiting genius. Money, IDs, checks, you name it, and he can forge it.
Vinny’s eyes are so wide they’re a second from popping out of his head. “I want one too.”
“Stick with me, kid, and maybe one day you’ll have one.” I toss him a smirk and lead the way off the field. He races behind me like an overeager puppy.
My heart clenches as the memories fade away.Dio, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my childhood friend in ages. My gaze refocuses on the familiar address, and I force the old, painful images to the back of my mind. Who still lived in Little Italy anyway? I’d movedMammaout of there when I made my first hundred grand. Then after my first million, I bought her a house in the suburbs, away from the hustle of the city and a safe distance from my life.
“You ready,capo?” Tony’s voice seeps through the door.
“No,” I grit out. “If I was ready, would I still be in here?” It’s my own damned fault for having a bathroom built into my office, but in my line of work, sometimes a shower in the middle of the day is necessary. And today, after the gym, I definitely needed it.
“Sorry, Luca,” he mutters. Tony’s a good guy, just not the most perceptive at times. He’ll stand beside me until the very end, do anything to protect me. He’s an old family friend and as loyal as they come.
I reach for the shirt and clean suit hanging from the back of the door and spear my hand through the sleeve. The five numbers scrawled within the crowned skull tattoo across my chest draw my eye. After the unexpected rise of old memories this morning, I can’t tear my gaze away from it. Shaking my head, I button up my shirt and bury my past.
To distract myself, I focus on the yellow note taped to the vanity. Maybe I’ll drop off the new textbook myself. It’s been so long since I’ve visited my old neighborhood, it could be nice. At the very least, I could grab some cannoli fromNonna Maria’sand remind those bastard Red Dragons who controls Little Italy.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
I slip on my favorite cufflinks, the gilded crowns bringing a smile to my face. Mamma always used to call me herpiccoloprincipe, her little prince. Now I was all grown up, and I was the king, or rather the C.E.O. of King Industries.
With one last glance in the mirror, I adjust my black tie and slip the note into my pocket. I whip the door open and the frosty air from my office mingles with the fog from the hot shower. Tony eyes me, quirking a brow. “You know, boss, they say cold showers are best for the circulation.”
“My circulation is just fine, thanks.” I spend enough hours at the gym to ensure that. It’s the only way to relieve the stress. Well, there are other ways of course, but that involves dating and with my schedule, it’s difficult. Case and point: Caroline. I’d rather keep my interaction with women casual, sex without strings.
Marching to my desk, I glance over the leather chair to Park Avenue and the sprawling city below. Once I’d constructed my empire, only the best office space would do. I’d crawled my way up from the bottom and built everything from scratch. Papà, God rest his soul, had been in the canned tomato business back in Italy. He had a decent brand, but when he died, the company crumbled. I did my best to keep us afloat, but I was only a kid back then. I quickly learned that money wasn’t in the tomatoes, but rather the machinery. Before long, I’d developed the most high-tech equipment out there and sold it to every cannery in the U.S. Now King Industries had their hand in just about every production plant out there.
Sure, I’d made some enemies along the way, but that was the nature of the business. And that’s what I had Tony for. He runs myotherenterprises.
