Page 66 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
ANTHONY
Is it a dealbreaker that Edgerton is Luca’s consigliere?
I thought I’d be walking in on a group of grown men playing VR games, but I pass the living room where the headsets have been abandoned in favor of the three billionaires sitting around the table, drinking in the middle of the day.
I’m shocked by Ford’s admission. It would answer so many of Luca’s questions, though…I don’t think I can be the one to tell him.
But it’s Rand’s question that really has me thrown, and I creep forward like a cat burglar.
Mads’ answer is soft but firm.
“No.”
Shit. Wow.
Also…thank fuck. I’ve been replaying Hopper and Ryder’s little back-and-forth on my failures with Mads, and—I can’t believe I’m going to admit this—they’re right.
And I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. I want nothing more than to stay quiet and listen to the rest of Mads’ answer, but I still have a job to do.
“Mads?” I say, alerting him to my presence.
His eyes go wide, as do Ford's.
“Were you listening in on us?” Ford asks, standing in a flustered rush, his long fingers dancing nervously along the top of his chair.
Ford is such a kind man, and so quirky that it's unsettling to see him serious.
“No, I wasn't. I did overhear the question about being Luca’s consigliere,” I say, looking at Mads, who stares at the table.
Rand, who's known me for the longest, smiles. “Good afternoon, Edgerton. Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? No. Serious? Yes.” Turning to Mads, I can’t stand the fear and uncertainty in his expressive eyes. Stifling the overwhelming desire to pull him close, I focus on the task at hand. “Mads, I apologize for interrupting your time with friends, but I need you to come with me. Right now.”
“Is this about the stalker?” he asks, getting up. He exchanges quick hugs with Ford and Rand before walking up to me.
“Yes. And it is both better and worse than we were thinking.”
He slides into that hideous puffer jacket, his eyes enormous and worried.
The jacket isn’t hideous, of course. Watching Holden slide into a similar jacket filled me with a sense of wrongness, and it made me want to rip it off him. On Mads, however, it’s fucking adorable, and when I say that I want to rip it off him, it’s for a different reason entirely.
Attempting some semblance of professionalism, I place my hand on his shoulder, silently leading him through Rand and Joe's penthouse and foyer. We make our way through the service entrance, which has a set of steps down to my floor. Historically, this was the servants’ wing, meant to house a large staff for the penthouse, but Rand dislikes a lot of personal staff, preferring to work with only Grayson. He’s insisted from the beginning that we use the space as home base for my security company, even though he is not my only client.
Grayson and his mother have the largest apartment, which is nearly as big as Luca’s place, a few floors down. My team has the next biggest apartment, which has a nice kitchen and bunks where they can rack out, another apartment that doubles as an office, and then there's my apartment. While technically the smallest, it's big enough for a New York family with a kid or two, and it’s plenty big enough for me.
I let us in, and Mads turns to me, smacking my arm.
“Ouch. What was that about?”
“What are you holding in your hand?”
I look down, confused. “My key chain. Why did you hit me?”
His dense eyebrows really are quite theatrical.
“I have to let a damn laser scan my eyeball every time I want to get into my building, and you’ve got a three-dollar metal key? Make it make sense.”
“That's because I'm the help,” I say, spinning him up on purpose.
