Page 81 of Gamble with Me
I didn't plan on being quiet. They would know who was behind everything, but their own fear would force them to make mistakes. Malin claimed that my strategy was too dependent on human nature. He liked facts, schedules, and precision. However, I knew what pure, raw fear could cause.
The panic would spread. Minds would stop working. Bodies would be in fight or flight mode. Everything would become instinctive. And then the cold, crushing grip of my hand around the snake's throat would put it down.
They would all go down for this, and I would leave Chester until the end before he would be erased. It would be a total destruction of the system the underworld knew with the hope for a new, brighter future.
"Zyon," Dorian addressed me, tearing the thin thread of my thoughts to pieces. "Are you okay?"
My youngest brother always cared for his family more than anyone. Dad taught us not to show feelings, but he never listened. Dorian asked how I felt often, getting on my nerves with his constant questioning, yet it was he who prevented tragedies from happening.
But he only looked after the people he considered family. Others were threats and enemies. Sometimes, even men who worked for us ended up in trouble because he was paranoid and distrustful. Behind all those smiles and jokes was a man I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of.
Dorian's unusual sense of empathy and ability to understand the fight in people, combined with his insane bloodthirstiness and strangely directed madness, made him the craziest of the three of us. No one would ever expect how psychotic he really was under the innocent face of a cute, caring person.
"We must handle this with a surgical precision," I said instead of replying to his question. "No interruptions."
I would rather have Malin with me at this meeting, but he had to prepare the ground for my other appointment. Dorian was sometimes unpredictable, and the situation with Gravaldis was delicate.
"Of course, boss," Dorian confirmed, one corner of his mouth lifting in a sinister half-smile. "I'm only with you as emotional support." He placed his hand on mine, making me lift my brows. "It's okay, Zee. We can do this."
"Will you stop?" I ground out, and he burst out laughing. Like I said, he was a psychotic maniac.
Shaking my head in annoyance, I looked out the window at the bustling streets of upper Manhattan. My mind instantly traveled to Valeria and her stunning smile. Her amazed face when I told my men about listening to her every command as if it was me was priceless. She looked so surprised and maybe even flattered. She was so cute, nervously looking around when they gave her their full attention.
And her confusion caused by my brother's game was even better. I should have been angry at him for playing with her, but she needed that lesson. Maybe, thanks to it, she would finally connect the dots and realize it was me under the skull mask all along. The signs were everywhere.
The car parked before the tall, white, elegant apartment building, and I looked at my brother. With a slight nod, he exited the vehicle, and I followed his example. Gravaldis agreed to meet with us only in his home, and even when my security didn't like that idea, I didn't object. His company was full of spies—even the walls had ears. We needed as much privacy as we could get. The less people knew about my intentions, the more significant an effect they would have when they came to light.
"I don't trust these people," Jamal pointed out, holding the door for me to enter the building. The receptionist behind the tall wooden desk opened her mouth to say something, but the sight of my security instantly shut her up. The cute young blonde took the phone, attempting to call somewhere, but Dorian quickly handled the situation while I walked toward the elevators.
"Sometimes, I don't trust my own shadow, Jamal," I said, watching the numbers change on the small screen. "But we have to adjust when the situation requires it, and we need allies. Gravaldis is the best of a bad bunch."
"We are strong enough to handle this within the organization," he objected when we entered the elevator. Four of my guys stayed in the lobby, and two with Dorian joined us on the way up.
"We want to avoid unnecessary casualties," Dorian replied instead of me, hiding the gun under his black jacket. "Men responsible for this mess will pay for it. We just want our families and friends out of this."
"You'll get your revenge for Richard and the others," I reassured him, realizing what was behind his silent anger. The attack on me sent some of his friends to the hospital and some to the cemetery. Tasha's husband, Richard, barely survived. Jamal craved to spill enemies' blood for his comrades' blood.
"Thank you, sir." He nodded curtly, and my two security guys flashed me brief, grateful glances.
I exchanged looks with Dorian, who seemed similarly taken aback by this short conversation. I didn't think about my men desiring payback for the attempted attack on me. I was overly blinded by my own rage to notice my men suffered, too.
My money couldn't fill the hole created by the death of one of my boys. He died while protecting me. Yes, he signed the agreement. He knew what he got himself into, but he also belonged to the family.
"Good afternoon," a kind woman's voice greeted us as soon as the elevator door opened and we stepped outside. The young maid in a white uniform smiled at us and led us into the spacious living room with a river view.
The cream-colored couch, combined with white walls and furniture, was too illuminating for my liking. I fancied dark colors and interiors. This reminded me of the sterile environment in a hospital.
Dorian, on the other hand, enjoyed the light colors. While I looked outside, he immediately sat behind the massive white piano and began to perform Beethowen's 5thsymphony.
I didn't like being left waiting, but given the circumstances, I was willing to give Stefano a few minutes to show up before canceling the whole thing.
"I always admired your excellent piano skills, Dorian," Stefano said, materializing at the entrance like a ghost. And his appearance wasn't any better. He looked messy and tired, with dark bags under his eyes and pale skin. His white button-up shirt was rumpled, and his blue tie was loosened around his neck. Silver hair stuck everywhere on his head, making him look like he just tried to put his fingers into an electric socket.
"You're late," I barked, watching him as he adjusted his shirt and pants. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time, and this wasn't the man I remembered.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, motioning for the couch. "My wife left for Washington to visit our daughter Tessa and phoned me with sad news. I lost track of time."
"Has something happened to her?" I asked, frowning at the poor man standing before me. His family would be in grave danger if he was discovered working with me. He was risking the lives of his loved ones by only meeting me.
