Page 71 of Fortress of the King

“Ain't that the truth.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

I shrug. “Date her, I guess.”

He side-eyes me. “Fuck, man, you do have it bad.”

I shake my head, shoving him in the shoulder as we go to the adjoining locker room to clean up and ride straight over to the warehouse. Fuck knows what I’m saying anymore.

My mind is on the new property we’ve finally acquired, and thanks to our substantial contribution to the mayor’s upcoming campaign, we now have the permits to start the process of building; it took long enough. Then the casino will be finally ready after almost three years of hell.

Outside of business, I’m well aware I’ve been ignoring Tiffany’s messages again to meet up with me, and then there’s Allegra still wanting to do lunch. I’ve enjoyed fucking Tiffany in the past, there’s a mutual attraction there, or should I saywas. However, we’re only compatible on a physical level, something that never seemed to bother me until now.

I don’t know why this feels so different with Rayne. I want to taint her for all others.

“The prodigal son returns,” Marco quips, using my line when I enter the building.

Loosening my tie, I nod at Darko and Dom standing in the doorway, keeping tabs as we arrive. I think back to finding and stringing up Rayne’s ex the other night. It was good fun hauling him in. And despite her pleas, he did get roughed up, but we kept him alive.

I don’t want any more complications this week. It’s been arranged with the Police Commissioner that the trafficking bust will be hijacked as soon as the boat docks. I know it will set the city alight and everyone will be circling. Let them. I want the fucking world to know that nobody comes into my town and tries to sneak underworld shit under my nose.

I own the underworld, and it’s up to me who I let in. I don’t employ an army of soldiers to keep watch over Boston for no good reason.

Rombaldi has no idea what’s in store for him, and I would personally love to see the shock on his face when this goes down.

“You seem chipper,” I say, as I give my brother a chin lift. I take a seat opposite him. Enzo walks over to the makeshift bar and pours us both a whisky.

He gives me a shit-eating grin. “I could say the same about you.”

I flash him a grin. I’m planning on inviting Rayne to the Gala ball next week, so they’re going to know about it soon enough.

I motion over to Dante, he’s sitting next to Fynn, playing cards. They’re a few drinks down, by the looks of it. “What’s up with you?” I nod to my little brother Fynn.

“Need to get to Ma’s. She’s making meatballs, and I’m fucking starving.”

“You fucking serious?” I grunt. “You called me all the way over here for an emergency.”

Enzo passes me a whisky and snickers.

“This is an emergency! I haven’t had a decent home-cooked meal in weeks.”

I could ring Fynn’s fucking neck sometimes. “Get your head in the game, Fynn. What you got for me, really?”

He puts his cards down and pushes a manilla folder across to me. “Dante and I have been tracking Senator Mendes. Everything you need is right in there, the question is, after the raid, how are we gonna take him down? He’ll still be at large while everyone else gets arrested.”

The question he should be asking iswhere.

I open the file and take a quick look through the photos. I’m sure his wife would be only too interested to see what he gets up to in his spare time, none of it is very tasteful. In fact, it turns my stomach.

“You seen this?” I ask Santino and Jonas; they are sitting at the other end of the table. San hates politicians even more than I do.

“I can’t fucking look at that shit,” Santino says, disgusted.

The women, if you can call them that because they’re just girls, don’t even look legal. All of this shit affects Santino the most, I wouldn’t say he’s the most sensitive, but this crap just seems to do a number on him. His teenage sister, my cousin Bria is around the same age as some of these girls. It hits home.

All I see when I look at the black and whites—taken of him escorting girls here and there, sometimes in the back of his car, primarily different hotels scattered across the countryside where the girls get delivered to him—is my mother.

My sweet, beautiful Ma was used and abused in a small but deadly syndicate early on in her life. She originated from the same village as my father growing up. Though they never knew each other, she migrated with her parents as a child– they both passed away early on in her life, leaving her with poor relatives. She’s a survivor if I’ve ever met one.

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