Page 23 of Ruthless Lord
I raise my eyebrows. “Thought she went by Charlie.”
“She does.” Albert clears his throat and looks away. “Thank you for what you did.”
Well now, that’s a surprise. I get the feeling a man like Albert doesn’t say thanks all that much. “No problem.”
“You won’t hear that from anyone else, but I think you deserve it. Charlie’s a good person, even if she was raised under less thangood circumstances. You saved her life, and for that, I feel like I owe you.”
“No worries.”
“Right. Of course not.” He stares at me for a moment, head tilted. “You really are a man of few words, aren’t you? Most fighters in your position would try to get something out of me.”
“Didn’t save the girl for that.”
“Still, I’m offering.”
“Not interested.” I nod at the door. “You want to move?”
Albert shrugs and steps aside without another word.
Chatty fucker. I head into the box, into a dimly lit and richly appointed pleasure room. There’s a bar like a high-end gastropub against one wall with a discreet and obscenely well-paid bartender casually mixing a drink. A table is set up in the middle of the room with the remains of what looks like it was a very good dinner.
And standing at the far end near the windows overlooking the fighting ring is an old man.
I’d bet eighty, at least, but still lean and needle-sharp. He turns to look at me, hands clasped behind his back. He’s in a neat suit, not overly fancy, but clearly expensive. I can see some mild resemblance to Charlie in his cheeks and eyes. His lips are tugged into a grim smile.
But he’s not the real surprise.
My breath is nearly sucked away when I realize there’s another person in the room.
Sitting at the table is Adriano Marino.
The Don of the Marino Famiglia and my boss’s boss.
I go very still. The door clicks shut behind me. The bartender’s shaking a drink and everyone’s staring at me. Adriano’s got an almost apologetic smirk on his face, leaning back in his chair casually, shoulders shrugged to the side.
If the Don is here, then this is serious.
I didn’t think fucking that girl was a huge deal. She lodged herself in my brain, but that’s only my problem.
Apparently, I was wrong.
“Don Marino,” I say finally, breaking the tense silence. “Didn’t expect you.”
“Trust me, Stefano, I’m almost as surprised as you are.” He nods slightly toward the old man. “This is Harrison Westbrook. Patriarch of the Westbrook family. You ever heard of the Westbrook Chemical Company?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“He owns it.” Adriano gestures for me to sit.
I don’t move.
“I’m all of that, but I’m also the grandfather of Charlie,” Harrison says simply as he comes over to the table. He sits down opposite Adriano, forcing me to shift over between them.
Well, fuck.
Both men are looking at me like I’m supposed to say something. But honestly, I’m not equipped for this.
If they wanted me to beat that bartender into a bloody rag, that’s easy. I could do that without breaking a sweat.
