Page 44 of Thorns of Lust
Over and over again. “Your betrayal. Your death.”
It was Adrian's voice that traveled through the darkness and sent shivers down my spine.
For the rest of the night, I sat frozen, staring at the empty doorway as images of ghosts played in my mind. I even convinced myself I heard voices whispering in the darkness, promising retribution.
With the first flicker of dawn, I knew what I had to do. It was time to search for the truth and quit the booze.
But first, I’d move the fuck out.
SIXTEEN
KONSTANTIN
Marchetti and Agosti stood outside the restaurant outside Rome where Marchetti usually held meetings. The place Rose Spinosa, translation Thorned Rose, was owned by him.
Even under the moonlight, I could see they were both dressed impeccably in dark suits, looking more like respectable businessmen than the heads of one of the five Italian families. At least here in Italy. DiMauro, Agosti, Leone, Romero, and, of course, Marchetti were once known as the kings. And then their empires fell.
But while the world wasn’t watching, each one of those families had come back stronger and more powerful. Remaining in the shadows, thanks to Konstantin technology, which gave them the extra leg to stand on. We made an unusual alliance. Came back as kings.
A row of black SUVs parked around the restaurant with several soldiers patrolling the street.
My own driver came to a stop, and I climbed out the second my door opened. Adjusting my cuffs, I sensed Enrico Marchetti’s and Giovanni Agosti’s eyes turning my way. One set of dark brown eyes and one set of green. The former was in his mid-forties, while the latter was in his thirties.
Enrico owned a large estate in Rome and businesses all around the world. Giovanni Agosti would be the sole heir to his uncle Matteo Agosti’s business in Italy. Matteo Agosti ran the Boston Italian mafia and the word was that his wife wanted more time with her husband. Giovanni was a sound choice. He stayed under the radar and followed the rules, unlike Matteo Agosti’s brother. That one was a prick.
“Konstantin,” Agosti and Marchetti greeted me at the same time.
“I’m not late, I hope.” It was just me. I opted not to drag Nikita nor Lenosh with me. I left them to watch after the woman with pale blue eyes. She needed more protection than me.
“Right on time.”
Truthfully, I didn’t give a shit whether I was late or not. I knew exactly why Marchetti demanded this meeting. He wanted the progress on Tatiana. The video recordings of our sins had resurfaced and started taunting us, causing havoc among the underworld. The fact that it came from Tatiana’s IP address didn’t fucking help.
Then there was the whole fucking deal with the chip. If that chip that Adrian created got in the wrong hands, it’d put the whole shadow world of the Omertà at risk. But that wasn’t the worst part.
At least not for me.
That chip contained a list of all the powerful men and their illegitimate children. Those illegitimate children roaming this world would be targeted. Some of them were clueless about who their parents were. Like my sister, Isla.
She was the main reason I continued my agreement with Marchetti that our fathers and grandfathers started. Not that getting out of the vow was an option. Not unless you had so much dirt on all the members that you could use it against them. But even then, you’d have to watch your back forever.
The Omertà was a vow and commitment for life - for my grandfather, my father, me and many generations to come. For centuries, the kings of Italy managed their empires and criminal underworld with pride, believing themselves untouchable. The Yakuza destroyed that illusion, three generations ago, in a matter of months. They crept in and slowly started crumbling the empire of the five families.
It wasn’t until Marchetti’s grandfather reached out to mine, that a pact was made. Information, sharing ports and common goals. And then there was the vow. One way in and one way out of that vow.
Omertà above all else - except I wasn’t willing to let my woman pay the price for it like my father let my mother bear it. Nor her gardener who threatened exposure of the organization.
“Everyone’s here,” Agosti said.
“How is the widow doing?” Marchetti wasted no time.
“Fine,” I gritted. Just thinking about it had my temper flaring. “Aside from the Yakuza sending an assassin after her.”
And my brother, but I’d deal with that my own way.
Marchetti clicked his tongue. “Yakuza are getting harder to control.”
“Impossible you mean,” I snorted.
