Page 11 of Claimed By Him

I heard the sound of Gio’s car rev up and disappear.

Sucker.

I ducked back out and slipped to the side of the building, walking quickly along the alleyway, and making sure that I didn’t see his car around any corners. My building was a five-story, black-brick apartment block with sharp palisade fencing surrounding it. I knew it wasn’t entirely safe, but I was relying on my own secrecy to be my protection. If no one knew I was there, the worst that could happen was a simple B and E, which happened to a lot of people in this city. I wasn’t gonna be kidnapped out here.

My loft was nothing like my bedroom at home. It was edgy, dark, and full of colorful paintings I’d bought on many drunken nights when strolling between art galleries with Ari. Back home, my teenage self covered her room in pink, and I still loved that, but this loft represented my other side, the secret side.

The secret side of me that sat down to think about who I was going to marry but ended up wondering what Tony was up to instead.

6

Tony

Present Day

“Tony, you take the lead on this one.”

“Yes, Papà.”

I held the door open for my father to enter Gianna’s Diner in Downtown Manhattan. It was a Romano-run business and one of our favorite spots to meet with our partners or associates. We were greeted warmly by the manager and seated in the back corner—with my father concealed in the high booth and me facing the doorway.

“I can’t manage the streets anymore, son. I know you’re itching to take my position as don, but you need to be prepared. Taking over the street operations will give you good practice.”

I nodded once, keeping my eye on the door. My father was an intelligent man, he had to have been to run the Romano organization for so long, but there were a few things he didn’t know. Firstly, I’d already started running the streets long before he proposed it. It was my job as second in command, his underboss, to know everything that was going on and report back to him. Lately, it was just easier to make the calls myself and present him with solutions rather than problems.

I’d always taken a hands-on approach to this job. I knew all our guys: the soldiers, dealers, runners, you name it. I knew their faces and their names. I knew exactly who was selling and where. So, his proposal was no big thing. I already had the streets under wraps.

But the second thing he didn’t know was that I was not, in fact, itching to take his position. I knew it was my future, and I looked forward to it one day, but I wasn’titchingfor it. I didn’t feel like I was quite ready yet. I needed a little something more in my life before I gave up my time and my freedom to donship. I just didn’t know what that was yet.

“Here he is.”

I stood up and jerked my chin at Luigi, our head dealer. He was a stout man, shorter than me but thick in his chest and arms. He had a scary look about him, but if he knew and trusted you, he was a friendly guy.

“Ey, Tony, my man.” He took my offered hand and pulled me in for a hug. “Don Enzo, always a pleasure to see you.”

He kissed my father’s cheeks, then pulled up a chair to the edge of the booth table and sat down.

“Lu, let’s go over these problems you’ve noticed,” I started. He nodded solemnly.

“Yes, boss. The boys don’t have as many sales these days. Their usual clients are ghosting them,” he leaned forward and spoke lowly, “trust me,goombah, this is no slump; it’s those fucking Colombians trying to get back at us.”

My eyes scanned the room, making sure there weren’t strangers overhearing us. But there was only one other table occupied—by two old boys of ours, retired and playing a game of chess at the windows. Often, it was men like them who gave us the best intel on what was happening on the streets.

“Do you know that for sure?” I asked.

“No. We don’t have proof. But I’ve seen them around. They give me that look, you know. Like they know something we don’t.”

Last year, I had a hand in taking down the Colombian drug lord, Christian Reyes. He was a snake, and my father promised his own daughter’s hand to that sleazeball. Olivia was devastated; she’d turned down one arranged marriage only to be given the worst runner-up possible. She had no choice in the matter and that angered me, but what could I do at the time? The don had spoken. He had no idea that this cartel ringleader was trafficking young girls alongside his cocaine imports. Huxley was the one to find that out since he was already in love with my sister and determined to sabotage her marriage to the guy.

Together we took him out. And now his men or some new leader of theirs was obviously moving in on us for revenge. We needed to know more about what they were up to.

“Okay.” I nodded slowly. “We’ll need to put boys on these Colombian guys you know of to watch them. But new boys that they wouldn’t have seen in those areas. I’ll send a couple your way.”

“Thank you, boss,” Luigi answered.

“Tell them to be careful; we don’t know how deep this thing goes. We also need them to follow the clients we assume are buying from those pricks and report back to you on who exactly they’ve been meeting with. I want pictures, and I want names. Street names are fine.”

My father reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, tapped one against the table, then lit up. I thought for a few moments, wondering how else we could catch these guys red-handed.

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