Page 42 of Surrender

Cristiano sighs, stroking the back of my neck. “Maybe you should make it worth my time. I’ll be risking my life if I take you along,” he points out.

“You want me to blow you first? And get your suit pants all wrinkled?” I ask, feigning horror. “Also, your fancy party starts in ten minutes, so if we don’t leave now, we’ll be past fashionably late and straight into insultingly late.”

“You’re lucky your hair looks very nice,” Cristiano says, “or I’d be grabbing you by it and forcing you down there anyway.”

That is extremely tempting. He’d shown me just how rough he could be the past few days. In the shower, over the sofa, by the kitchen counter—just in time for Briar to walk in, exactly like I’d planned. But my libido aside, I do actually want to get to this party.

I can’t risk somebody other than me taking Cristiano out first.

Yeah, and maybe I should try to figure out who rigged the warehouse to blow. I’m still not sure I was actually an intended target, but better safe than sorry.

“That sounds like a yes,” I say, sitting back just enough that I can help Cristiano lace up the second shoe.

“That sounds like a, I’m going to get myself killed,” Cristiano mutters. “Because that’s probably what’s going to happen if I take you with me.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I snap my mouth jokingly, then sigh. “Seriously though, we’ll have a better chance of sussing out if any of your allies have it out for you if I’m there too. They don’t know me, and I might be able to notice things you wouldn’t since I’m bringing in outside eyes. And I do actually know how to be discreet. You never noticed me in the warehouse at all, did you? Until I started shooting.”

He grimaces. “No, I didn’t notice you. I should have. You’ll have to tell me how you got around the cameras and security. It shouldn’t have been possible.” Shaking his head, Cristiano stands, and he places a kiss to the top of my head. “Let’s go, then. But I swear to you, Fox, if you misbehave, I will not take you over my knee and spank you when we get home.”

“Understood, Daddy.” I get up, brace myself on his knees, and lean in for a kiss. “I won’t give you a reason to make me cry again.”

“Pity,” he says. “I enjoy your tears.” Before I can respond, he’s on his way to the door, and he crosses the threshold into the hallway. “Grab the jacket that goes with that suit.”

I do as ordered, and we make our way to Giovanni Cresci’s residence in the rich outskirts of New Bristol. I note the route we take to get there and plot out a potential escape route if it comes down to it.

As Cristiano parks the car in Cresci’s enormous driveway, I attempt to open the glove compartment. It’s locked, and Cristiano gives me a strange look.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“The gun you have stashed in there,” I answer. I let go of the glove compartment and fumble underneath the passenger seat until my fingers snag on something. It’s not a gun, but I guess it’ll do. I lift up the sheathed knife and examine it.

“What’s under your seat?” I ask him. “If I’m going to play your bodyguard, I should be armed with more than just this.”

He reaches over to unlock the glove compartment, pulling out a gun from inside. He checks the safety and shakes his head. “I must be absolutely fucking insane handing you a gun,” he mutters. “You could just shoot me now and drive away with my body in the car.”

I laugh and take the gun from him. “I’d have to move your body from the driver’s seat! All those people milling around might notice. Not to mention the sound. These hardened gangsters might actually know what a gunshot sounds like.”

I check to make sure the gun is loaded—it is—and holster it on the inside of the jacket. How very convenient that Briar’s jacket includes extra straps for just that. I slip the knife into a pocket.

“Nobody will ever know it’s there,” I joke.

Cristiano rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting you a new one if it gets confiscated at the door.”

I have a plan for that, too. It’s a bit of sleight of hand and distraction, but the guards don’t notice me slipping the knife and gun past the metal detector.

“Your new bodyguard doesn’t look like he could handle a child, let alone any real threats,” the guy attending the door says to Cristiano. “I can hook you up with my buddy Adam. He’ll be more imposing than… this.”

Cristiano offers him a bland smile. “Thanks. I might take you up on that if this one doesn’t work out.” He gestures curtly for me to follow, aloof and distant in a way he’s never been with me before. I don’t like it, even if I understand the need to play a role.

With all that out of the way, we head toward the grand hall where the party is set up. I recognize a good chunk of the men there, the underworld elite of New Bristol. I’ve probably worked jobs for some of them, even if we’ve never met face to face. There are the usual girlfriends—and paid women—there too, and big men with dour faces daring anyone to get close to their charges.

Cristiano leads us to Don Cresci, who is holding his metaphorical court near the center of the hall. Silvano is with him, as is an unfamiliar, tall man with dark hair and a scruffy beard.

“Don Cresci, Silvano,” Cristiano greets. He turns to the unfamiliar man. “Rossi. I haven’t seen you in a while. Is Pavone with you?”

Rossi sighs. “Not yet. He’s… stuck in traffic.”

Stuck in traffic? I don’t remember there being much traffic on the way in. Rush hour ended a few hours ago too, although I suppose it depends on where they’re driving in from.

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