Page 31 of Corrupted Empire

I trace a finger around the rim of the empty glass, staring at it as though I might be able to fill it with my mind. “Nothing that should be.”

Silvano slides into the seat next to me and unbuttons his suit jacket. “And what does that mean?”

“I can’t stop thinking about Alexis,” I say with a defeated sigh. “I have so many other things to worry about, and yet I can’t get the damn woman out of my head.”

“Of course you can’t,” Silvano says simply. “You love her.”

My eyes snap to his. “I never said I loved her.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Mind what you say to me, Silvano,” I growl.

His eyes light humorously. “Methinks he doth protest too much.” Before I can snarl anything else at him, Silvano leans forward and claps a hand on my back. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “We will go when I say we can go.” I slide my glass toward him. “Go get me another whiskey.”

Silvano heads off in the direction of the bar, and I let out a sigh. What he said troubles me. Did Vito tell him that as well? About me loving Alexis? Or is it that obvious? Does everyone know? Does Alexis know?

I scrub a hand over my face and try to push it from my mind. Silvano returns with my whiskey, and I grab it from him and start to walk toward the door.

“Come on,” I say. “Time to go.”

I think of the empty mansion waiting for me, and the prospect of going home seems only slightly better than staying here with all these snakes. If Alexis were waiting for me, that would be a different story. Fuck, I miss her. I just want to hear her voice. I want to yell at her. I want to kiss her.

David is waiting out front with the town car when we arrive. Silvano opens the door for me, and as I slide in, I meet his gaze. “Take a cab.”

His expression flickers, but he gives a short nod.

I want to be alone. Or as alone as I can be. David has been my driver for a long time and can sense when I don’t want to speak, so he greets me and then locks his eyes on the road and starts to drive.

I pull my phone from my pocket and turn it over in my hand. I know what I want to do. I also know it is not what I should do. But the whiskey is running like fire through my veins, and it urges me on.

I unlock my phone, and with gritted teeth, I call Alexis.

12

Alexis

I am lying in bed, waiting to feel even the slightest bit sleepy when my phone starts to ring on the bedside table. It’s not terribly late, though I would still consider it an unusual time for a social call.

I bolt up, immediately fearing the worst. Something has happened. Clara is hurt. Debbie is dead.

I snatch the phone off the table and check the screen. My heart leaps into my throat as I read Gabriel’s name.

Why would Gabriel call me now, after all the times I have begged to speak with him and he has refused? What could he want from me at this hour? It can’t be good, I decide. I answer the call, hand shaking.

“Hello?” I ask uncertainly.

“Hi.”

It’s Gabriel, all right. That one syllable is more powerful than any syllable ought to be. My belly flutters, and I jump out of bed, still a little jumpy from the bolt of adrenaline soaking through my system.

“Can I help you?” I ask, gluing the phone to my shoulder while tugging on a pair of jeans from the floor. Some loose change spills out of the back pocket and onto the carpet.

“I dunno,” Gabriel replies. “Can you?”

Gabriel is not a man who uses the word “dunno.” His voice is thick, his tone a little petulant. He’s drunk, I realize.

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