Page 51 of Say I Do

“I suggest you sit back down,” I said evenly. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve let slide, but disrespecting me will not be one of them.”

“I merely pointed out—”

“You merely insulted me,” I snapped. “Don’t I take care of this family? Do I not provide for and keep us safe?”

“Yes,” Enzo said slowly. “Of course you do.”

“Then don’t you think I can handle myself?”

Slowly, Enzo sat down. One leg draped over the other as he adjusted his tie. When our eyes met, there was uncertainty in his dark gaze.

“Normally, yes, I believe that,” he said as he spared the smallest of glimpses to watch Gin pick himself up off the floor. “This one you’re dealing with right now, though, is different. Dangerous. I don’t want you getting caught up in the wrong thing or pissing our father off because you were too consumed by a distraction. Besides, how do you know that isn’t exactly what Denji wants? We don’t know his true intentions. You stop paying attention, and he could move in and take over. None of us wants that.”

My stomach tightened. It wasn’t the first time I’d had a thought like that, but to hear it outside of my own head somehow felt different. Denji could very well be planning to take over, and I would have no clue because my head was so firmly planted up his son’s ass.

I sat down and straightened up in my chair. Enzo didn’t have to say anything. We both knew he’d made his point.I need to be more careful.

My job was to uphold the contract, not to fuck Harlow over every square inch of my penthouse. Which was exactly what I’d been doing for the past few days. Sometimes, Harlow was a hell of a lot calmer when he was well fucked. It kept the house peaceful, despite how much he tried to tell me that I was, in fact, bisexual.

That’s a whole can of worms I don’t want to open.

Gin dusted himself off as he stretched and took a seat again. “You had some trouble with a reporter?”

“Yeah,” I said as I moved past the subject of Harlow, even while Enzo still scrutinized me silently. “Someone named Darla Shamers. Harlow was at that benefit a few days ago, and she started asking him all kinds of questions. Some stuff was the regular reporter bullshit, but other stuff…” I trailed off.

“She shouldn’t have known?” Enzo supplied.

“Exactly that.” I rubbed a hand over my chin. The scratchy stubble reminded me I needed a shave as well. I filed that away as I returned to the subject at hand. “Lately, I’ve been noticing a lot of people asking more questions. Articles are coming out about us. Snippets on the local news.” I shook my head. “It’s like someone is feeding them information.”

Gin frowned. “You don’t think it’s someone in our circle, right?” His eyes darkened. “If it is, I’ll take Silvy to them.”

I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary,” I sighed as I tried to stop Gin’s bloodlust at the source. Him and that damn hammer, which he had affectionately named Silvy, were the cause of a lot of cleanup and headaches. No thanks. “Right now, I have people searching around for leads. When they come back with something concrete, we can discuss moving forward.”

“And if they don’t find the source?” Gin asked.

I shrugged. “Then we’ll find some other way to get the rumor spreader to show themselves. Someone has to be wagging their tongue, and that isn’t done without risk. Eventually, we’ll find a path right back to them.”

“And then comes the fun part,” Gin chimed as a small smile grew on his face. “It’s been a while since we’ve had some serious torture and interrogation.”

“Down, boy,” I snapped.

Giancarlo wiped his mouth. He’d literally been salivating. Straightening up a little more, he grabbed the tablet off my desk.

“You know, this could be the Fallacis doing,” Gin supplied.

Enzo rolled his eyes. “You want it to be them so you have a reason to kill them.”

“What? Who me? Nooo.”

I shook my head. Enzo was completely right. Giancarlo had decided to blow his load in Marco Fallaci’s car when he was dating his now fiancé, Ash. Even after I’d told him to pay the damages, I was sure he was holding out just to torture Marco. Despite all that, the Fallacis were our allies, even if we butted heads at times.

“They wouldn’t do it,” I said evenly as I stared at my brother. “No matter how much you want to kill them.”

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Just Marco. Let me do it.”

“I said no,” I repeated. “Since you want to turn it into a thing, you get to go to the docks and handle the next trade-off for today.”

Giancarlo groaned even harder. Nothing was more boring than waiting around at the docks for a delivery. They were always late, and you spent your time just waiting because the only cell phones allowed were prepaids.

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