Page 9 of Fixate
The men don’t dare laugh, though I do. It’s a perk of being her husband.
“We’ll get it taken care of. I know it’s your favorite.”
She moved to stand beside me, her gaze roaming over the men. My wife didn’t miss much of anything. Her eyes picked up their hesitant stances.
“Something happened. Who is going to tell me?”
I spoke up before one of the other men could. Stasia was already in a rough mood. If they gave her the bad news, she might put a bullet between their eyes — likely with their own gun. She had a habit of doing such.
“There’s been a… problem with the shipment of money coming in. The armored car arrived empty. Henri is checking CCTV now to see if he can locate where a switch occurred since the men in the car swear it was never stopped or opened.”
More curses left her lips, this time in English to ensure all the men know what she said. I smiled despite the issues at hand. It was fun to see her riled up.
But then I thought of the monetary loss and my smile faded. My casinos were insured, of course. That didn’t mean I wanted to deal with the headache of filing the paperwork and having the news cover the story. No matter what we did, it would leak.
And since there was more than just money for the casino in the car, we’d be under some serious scrutiny until some answers came through. I hoped Henri hurried the fuck up.
We paid him well enough to.
“What do you plan to do about this, Pharrell? Who is going to be held responsible?” Her demand was clear. Someone needed to bleed for the loss.
The one flaw Stasia had was her temper. It could be beautiful to watch, but at the same time, it had zero patience. She was quick to ignite anytime she felt wronged.
“We have to find the cause of the loss first, Stas. Killing loyal innocent men will not replace the product.”
“But it will make me feel better,” she said with a pout.
I laughed, looping my arm around her shoulders as I turned her away from the men. The less she looked at them, the more likely they’d stay alive.
With the hand not wrapped around her, I motioned for them to leave us. The group was quiet as they scattered.
“It’s no fun when you stop me.” My wife crossed her arms, the pout on her face priceless.
“Your bloodlust is usually a joy, but today isn’t a good time for it. We have company coming in soon, remember?”
She snorts. “Of course, I do. We love hosting Junior when he visits.”
“He’s not a junior, Stas. Dante is the heir to the Cosa Nostra. You’d do well to remember this when he arrives, or he mightshow you how strong his bloodlust is. I’ve heard enough rumors to know you’re more than matched.”
Fire sparked in her eyes. She was itching for someone to come to blows with. Too bad it wouldn’t be a man I considered a friend.
“Why don’t you head up to get ready? Set your shirt aside. I’ll personally see to it that it’s laundered.”
“How kind of you, dear husband.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be petulant. I want to greet them when they arrive. You can wait until later since it’s obvious you need to relax.”
Stas rolled her eyes before patting my cheek. “You’re too good to me.”
We walked out of the warehouse, where both of our drivers waited for us. I opened her door. “My lady,” I said with a bow.
As I’d hoped, she laughed and climbed in the car. “You look like a prince when you do that. It’s the royal bone structure you have.”
If only she knew the truth of it. My great grandfather was the bastard son of a king. There was royal blood running through my veins, no matter how diluted it’d become.
I suspected those genes were what led me to be a part of the organization I was in now. It’s what made me strive to be le patron, as my father would say. El jefe if my mother were still around to speak it.
With my half French, half Spanish blood, I knew I looked more like I was built for a runway than to hold an automatic rifle. Most men I met underestimated me. The rest had learned quickly my looks didn’t stop me from proving my power through a little bloodshed. Or a lot.
