ANGELO
The dallianceon the steps of her apartment has me reeling and hard as a rock.
When I relax back in the limo, I can still taste her sweetness on my lips, wondering all the while why I didn’t tell her to let me inside so I could peel her clothes off and bury myself inside her for the rest of the evening.
The fact that she has this whole almost innocent act going on is what gets me the most, it excites me like I’m a teenager again, and I have no self-control. Around her, I don’t want to have any.
I momentarily close my eyes and enjoy my own fantasy, which lasts for about ten luscious seconds before my phone rings loudly inside my pocket. When I pull it out and glance at the screen, I see it’s Marco.
I sigh, enjoying what was, because he wouldn’t be ringing me this time of night for nothing. “Brother.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and contemplate throwing another whisky back.
“Angelo, where the fuck are you?”
“Nice to talk to you too, bro.”
“Very funny. I sent you a text fucking hours ago.”
“I was at the Gallery Fundraiser.” I sigh, realizing now I have a few missed messages from him I didn’t bother replying to. “Would have been nice for some of the Medicis to have also been there to show some solidarity.”
“Been up to my elbows in it, actually.”
“Pussy?” I scoff. That’s nothing new.
“Yeah, I wish. I’ve been back and forth with the council permits all day. Fucking Fynn is nowhere to be seen, and fuck knows where Dante’s whereabouts are. Feels like I’m running this whole show here by myself.”
Big fucking baby.
Both the twins are equally haphazard but in their own separate ways.
Fynn is the oldest of my two younger twin brothers, he’s slightly unpredictable and the typical playboy. His twin Dante is much calmer and level-headed, but both are equally a pain in the ass.
Marco, being next in charge when I’m not around, worries a lot. I keep telling him it’ll turn him gray, but it doesn’t seem to do any good.
We’re waiting on council approval and a work permit for some new land we’ve purchased, and we’re also building a bunch of boutique apartments. That’s project one and then there’s the casino which has been years in the making, since Roberto’s funeral. And that’s almost complete, thank fuck.
Marco is the brains of the property development world, so he has full reign over all of it and my unwavering support. He loves it; he’s chomping at the bit for the hotel and casino to open. He’s impatient, though.
I’ve told him repeatedly that councils won’t be hurried up just because he wants them to be, bribery included. I have already slipped a sizable ‘donation’ to the mayor’s upcoming campaign and an under-the-table handshake for the homeless city appeal, a portion will come from the charity event tonight.
So, I’m not without morals.
“What’s so urgent at midnight?” I glance at my silver Rolex, I feel wired.
“We got shit to clean up downtown.”
I hear the strain in his voice, which I didn’t detect earlier, and sit up a little straighter.
“At the warehouse?”
“Yes, at the warehouse, we have a screamer; the Rombaldi shipment has gone completely haywire, we have one of their own under guard.”
“Has he talked?”
“Nope.”
“Good, wait till I get there.” I hang up.
There’s no rest for the wicked, but the distraction might be good. All I can think about is telling Gus to turn around so I can go pound Rayne’s door down and fuck her senseless. Instead, I tell him to take me to the compound, what I lovingly callthe fortress.I need to pick up my truck and drive to the warehouse alone.