Page 16 of Wild

Now? This is uncomfortably close to that.

It kills me to have Rose do dirty work, even if it’s just talking, watching, listening. She can take care of herself, more than I ever fucking thought possible, but the idea of her in danger… I’d have left her at home, denied myself, if I thought she’d be safer. Here, though, I can watch, keep her safe and happy.

Fuck. Am I getting weak?

Because of her?

At least these thoughts kill boners. “Go.” I untangle myself and walk away, smoothing my tie back into place, and I don’t look back until I reach the bar.

“Wilder.”

My drink arrives, and I lean back against the black lacquered surface. “Belucci.”

Gianni Belucci is one of the meanest, most brutal, powerful mafia kings to exist both inside and outside of Italy. Half of New York City is his, among other strongholds in the US and beyond. I deal with him in Queenstown, but it’s a mutual understanding not to step on each other’s toes.

He’s almost seventy, but he has a crush on Rose. The amusement factor isn’t lost on me, just like how I don’t give a fuck who he is when it comes to protecting her.

“Are you trading her for a bigger piece of New York?”

I send him a cutting look. “Not worth your life, Belucci.”

He only smiles. “You brought your beauty, so you’re looking for something. She’s quite the asset.”

I take a sip of the whiskey, thinking through my chances of ending him here and now. On one hand, anything goes, if you can get the fuck away with it. Unfortunately for my bloodlust, apart from his infatuation with Rose, he isn’t making a move.

He’s just poking the other dangerous beast in the room.

I’ve no beef with him. We’re not enemies; we’re not even allies in the traditional sense. Still, I recognize something in him. Perhaps it’s a certain kind of friendship, as much as we can be. Favors, usually low-key, have been passed, and I know my uncle liked him. The man hasn’t done anything to cross me.

“Well?”

“Not sure. Yet.” I cut a glance at him. “And you?”

He shrugs. “Entertainment. Business.” He nods to Rose. “The view. I want New York.”

“That’ll get you as dead as wanting Queenstown.”

“I have what I need in Queenstown, just like you do in New York. When I say New York, I mean certain strategic territories.” He shrugs again. “Some are in my way.”

I mull it over. He wants me to ask, but games like that are fucked before they begin, so I leave it. New York isn’t my territory. I have uses and symbiotic relationships, and that’s it. A monster like Belucci, even one as powerful as him, will talk when he chooses to, when he wants help. Those politics interest me only so far as they endanger what’s mine.

“Should I ask why you’re here, Wilder. You’re savvier than Adam.”

My uncle’s name is like a jagged slice of a blade in the gut. For a second, I wonder if it’s a warning, but I don’t think so. My uncle liked this man, trusted him. Then again, he’s right. Naïve isn’t a word ever associated with me.

“Something in that?” I ask him.

“Don’t apply your card-playing tonight to life.”

I glance at him with a questioning look, but he’s back to watching Rose, at the sway of her hips as she chats up some fat ugly fuck. He trails over the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her neck, one that flushes red as the fuck says something.

I go still.

She laughs and nods but doesn’t move, doesn’t let him touch her. More importantly, Rose doesn’t give off a single vibe that would have the man dead in moments flat.

“Things on my fucking mind,” I say.

He snorts and lights his cigar. “She’s a tasty morsel.”

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