Chapter One
GIO
Gio
“Italy is coming to America.” Romero flipped through a stack of papers on his desk. “I hope you’re ready.”
“What do you mean?” I took a seat across from his desk and scrolled through my phone, waiting for him to tell me how this week was going to go. “Are we expecting a shipment?”
“You could say that.” My brother glanced at his Movado. “It lands at Kennedy in two hours.”
“What are you talking about?” The shipments my brother and I moved through New York did not come via Kennedy International. “Janero reached out?”
“He did.” Romero stared at me. “This particular favor is all you.”
Janero Malatesta was the most influential Don in all of Italy. His connections were far-reaching. If you were in the business, you knew Malatesta, and you didn’t cross him. Janero took my brother and I under his wing after our father died and we fled to Italy over a decade ago. Romero and I wouldn’t be in the position we were in today if not for him. So when he asked us for a favor, we didn’t say no.
“The situation in Italy is becoming more contentious,” Romero continued. “Janero is ensconced in a turf war, and he has to focus if he wants to come out on top. He can’t have any distractions.”
“What does he need me to do?”
“Look after his daughter.”
“Cinzia?” It had been a few weeks since I had gazed into her stunning chocolate eyes. We had recently spent time together under the watchful rule of her father. “She’s coming here?”
“In two hours.”
My curiosity was piqued like a wolf in waiting. Cinzia had been the prey I had been forced to walk away from, but my inner-beast never forgot, and now she would be handed to me.
“He needs us to keep her safe while he protects his territory. He’s in deep negotiations with another family and…” Romero leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers along the stubble on his chin. “She might be a bargaining chip, and he needs her under control.”
“What kind of bargaining chip?”
Romero shrugged and held his hand up. “You’re not going to like it.”
“An arranged marriage?” I asked. Fuck no.
“Possibly.” He tapped his impatient fingers against his desk. “Some of them do work out.”
Romero's own marriage to his wife Luciana had been an arranged union situation. It may have worked out, but it started rough. No one was happy when they got together, and our family was still dealing with the consequences.
“Cinzia is only twenty. Who would Janero consider for her?”
“Look,” my brother said. “If this is too much to ask of you, or if you did develop feelings for her when you were in Italy the last time, she can stay with me and Luciana. I just thought maybe she’d be more comfortable with you.”
“It's fine.” None of this is fucking fine. “I got this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I know you kind of have a thing for her. I thought it was a get-in-her-panties type of thing, but if it’s more…”
“A thing for her? What am I? A teenage girl?”
“No, we’re fucking arms dealers with all of the east coast in our pocket. Can we act like it?” He shook his head. “I know you have this, so let’s discuss this week’s agenda and then you can get to the airport to pick up your latest assignment.”
As Romero talked about shipments, guns, and whatever the hell else we had to do to survive, I thought about the last time I saw Cinzia.