Page 43 of Surrender

“Rossi was telling us about a few interesting arrangements they’ve made,” Silvano says. “If we have some empty containers, we might want to help them move a few shipments here and there. Pavone has really gotten into collecting art, too, and could use somebody to help him on that front.”

Cristiano nods and starts chatting with them, but I tune out most of their words. I’m more interested in how Silvano’s eyes rove over my body.

Definitely gay.

I smile knowingly at him, and he quickly averts his gaze. Is that because he doesn’t want his father to realize he’s into men? Or does he suspect something about me?

Fuck, I wish I could remember more about the evening we’d met. He’d given me a strange vibe, but after the spanking…

“I see Giulio,” Rossi suddenly says. “Excuse me.” I watch as he walks toward the front of the hall, where he meets with a handsome man in a well-tailored suit… and sandals? I’d heard Giulio Pavone was eccentric, but I’m not sure I could forgive a man who wears sandals with a suit.

“Ugh, I hoped he wouldn’t show up,” Cresci grumbles. “Rossi is great, but I can’t stand Pavone.”

“I don’t recommend getting into a fight with him,” Silvano says with wry amusement.

“No, we have our hands full with the Winters clan. I’d rather keep Pavone on our side.” Cresci shakes his head and claps Silvano on the shoulder. “Anyway, I should chat with others as well. You two, see if you can’t suss out who has it out for us.”

Cristiano nods, though I’m willing to bet he’s just humoring Cresci. In a room full of mobsters, who doesn’t have it out for them? He glances at me, mouthing “sandals?” He shakes his head.

Silvano is looking at me again, more openly now that his father has walked away, and Cristiano looks between us. He tenses slightly, obviously getting the same vibes I am from Silvano.

“It looks like you’re feeling better,” Silvano says to me. “And you clean up nicely. Admittedly, though, red suited you quite well, too.”

Cristiano turns his gaze back to Silvano, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t comment.

I give him a brittle smile. “I might still be wearing some red underneath all of this.”

“How would you like to approach your father’s request?” Cristiano says, interrupting the fledgling conversation. “I’m sure there’s no shortage of hostility here.”

Silvano shrugs and makes a dismissive gesture. “We can try some of Dan’s old associates, and I see the Russians have arrived. You probably need to discuss the new shipments with them anyway. And thank them for the vodka. I’ll chat with Giulio later, too. I don’t think he’d be rocking the boat, but who knows with him.”

“Sounds like a plan. Come along, Fox.” Cristiano squeezes my shoulder and starts heading toward the buffet table.

I give Silvano one more glance before following behind.

Parties like these are interesting, because for all that everybody attempts to be secretive and discreet, you can see where the lines are. Everybody mingles more with their compatriots than with those they’re less fond of. I notice some of the women are going from group to group, and I wonder how many of them are just there for entertainment, and how many are eavesdropping. Nobody thinks the eye candy could possibly be smart, after all.

One blonde woman with a pixie cut meets my eyes, and something about her gaze makes me bristle. Then she winks at me and licks her lips suggestively. I quickly turn my attention back to Cristiano and the men he’s talking to.

“Fiore,” the largest of the Russians greets. He has dirty blond hair, a thick beard, and arms the size of my thighs. I probably do not want to get into a fist fight with him. “I heard you had some trouble.”

Cristiano chuckles darkly. “You could say that.” He doesn’t look at me, but I can tell he’s perfectly aware of where I am.

“Who is this?” the Russian asks, gesturing to me.

“My new bodyguard,” Cristiano answers without missing a beat.

“Him?” The man laughs, and his compatriots join in. “I could break him over my knee.”

I laugh along with them. “Yes, probably. Unless there’s a bullet in your knee. Or in the back of your skull.”

The big Russian stops laughing. “Big talk for a tiny man. But go away. I don’t deal with strangers.”

Cristiano’s expression doesn’t change. I doubt he’s surprised by the demand.

I look at Cristiano and shrug casually. “Fine by me, if you think you’re safe here. I need a drink, anyway.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cristiano says, waving dismissively at me. “Stay within sight.”

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