Page 11 of The Almost One

MARCO

“Which one is he?” Enzo’s words hit their mark. With a side-eye in his direction, I let a smirk tick up on the side of my mouth as my gaze returns to the construction site across the street from my hotel.

My office is on the second floor, my view directly facing what I’m guessing is Kai Briggs’s temporary workplace for the next few months. The owner of the building was a classmate of mine at Columbia, so calling him to chat and discreetly ask about his renovations was easy enough.

“None of those guys out there.” I turn to look Enzo in the eye and grin. “Even so, I’m not stupid enough to tell you.” River would have my balls if I let Enzo loose on her childhood friend.

“You’re getting soft in your old married age.”

With my hands in the pockets of my dress pants, I shrug at his words. Maybe I am when it concerns River, but I can’t say I feel lesser for it. On the contrary, her presence in my life gives me strength in situations where in the past I would have just as easily sent Enzo in to deal with them. Having River by my side forces me to consider options that go against everything I was taught. Against everything a don should do. As the head of my family, I must protect us—always—but sometimes, violence can be avoided without it being a show of weakness.

“Not soft enough that I wouldn’t throw you in the cellar and let you rot out the second half of your existence.” Well, River isn’t at my side right now, which means threats of violence are allowed.

The thought of my wife out there creating her own empire makes me smile with overflowing pride, but the feeling is brief as the main subject of our conversation walks out of the building, clipboard in hand and index finger pointing out into the distance.

“Christ, Boss, you just fucking growled like a savage. Guess I know who the guy is now.”

There is nothing to say to that. He’s right on all counts, but I refuse to be the instigator in this game Kai is trying to play. Little does he know or even understand that I don’t lie to my wife. She’s aware I’m keeping a secret, but even that will come to light soon. It has to. It’s fucking time for her to know the whole story, she deserves the big picture.

This guy? Fuck, he let her go when they were teens. He chose his sex drive over his future, so as far as I’m concerned, he never deserved her. Hell,Idon’t fucking deserve her, but the only way I’m letting her go is if I’m lowered six feet under and covered in dirt.

“Walk with me.” Turning on my heel, I swipe the documents from my desk and slide my favorite pen from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “I need to make sure the hotel renovations are on schedule for the grand reopening.”

Updating the SoHo location was a gamble, but my team has been working ridiculous overtime to make sure we don’t lose too much money as our guests were transferred to our Upper West Side location. So far, miracles have happened and our timeline is being respected. Now, I just need to make sure my vision is coming to life.

“What’s the situation with Elizabeth? Why is she back?” My questions are rapid fire because I need my second-in-command to keep me updated.

“I’ve had eyes on her, and for a while, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Until last night…” He pauses like this is a fucking soap opera and the producers just cut to commercial.

“And?”

“Gunner sent me pictures of her walking into Eleonor’s gaudy mansion and not coming out until this morning, all fresh and ready for a new day.” I come to a screeching halt and spin on my heel, the look on my face probably matching the anger in my tone.

“Why am I just hearing this now? You should have led with that instead of chit-chatting for the last hour.” He snorts at my words, because Enzo doesn’t chat. He drops bombs. In fact, he doesn’t even acknowledge my outburst with a justification.

“Okay, so she’s staying with Eleonor. That can’t be a coincidence, which means she knows something or her family is planning something.” My mind is whirring with the possibilities. As it stands, I’m the underboss of the most powerful family in New York City. I’ve got the resources, the contacts, loyal men working under me. They say it’s lonely at the top, I say it’s a constant position of danger. You’re not lonely as much as you’re vulnerable. So, when unfortunate coincidences show up—like Nathaniel’s mother and the Ambrosio daughter playing house—it makes the hairs on my skin rise to full attention.

“Eleonor has been seen at the police station. She’s asking around, demanding answers, but we covered all that. Normal reaction, I’d say. Anything less would be a red flag. As far as any and all digital footprints are concerned, Nate decided to take a last-minute trip to offer his medical services to those in need in Nigeria.” Slowing his gait, Enzo takes out his phone and in a flurry of flying thumbs, sends off a text then puts his phone back in his pocket.

“What are our eyes and ears in Naples saying?”

“There’s rumbling, some rumors about you and Elizabeth joining forces.” Fuck. These assholes won’t give up, will they?

“Put an end to it. The only way my union to River is dissolved is if one of us is dead.”

“Done.” Just as he says the word, my phone rings. The screen flashes the name of my father and I know I can’t ignore it. My mother calls to catch up, my father calls for business.

“Buon giorno, Papà, come stai?” My father and I are close. We share the hot-blooded heritage that sometimes boils just under the surface, which means our conversations often get loud and gesticulative. Despite the world in which I’ve had to grow up, my life has been one of privilege and love.

“Figlio mio, sto bene, grazie.” Every time I ask him how he’s doing he always—always—answers the same. That he’s fine. Even when a hit was put on his head, he had told me, “My son, I’m fine, thank you.” The truth could only be found in his tone.

“We need to talk about this Elizabeth mess.”

I’m careful not to sigh at my father’s words as I take the stairs down to the ground floor with Enzo right behind me. It’s clear my father means business since the conversation continues in his native tongue.

“I’m handling it.” I snap my fingers to get our architect’s attention then point to a crack in the banister. I don’t want anyone overlooking a single detail of these renovations. There’s no excuse for a luxury hotel to be less than pristine. My clients won’t stand for it, and neither will I.

“Not enough. She called your mother, and you know I don’t like to see your mother upset.” By ‘upset’ he means pissed off, which is exactly what I’m feeling right now.

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