The line was silent for several seconds.
“When I want your fucking opinion, I’ll ask for it.” Every clipped word was a warning.
I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping back at him. As far as I was concerned, my years of loyal service entitled me to an opinion, but he wouldn’t see it that way even though he’d practically raised me.
Even if he had allowed me a say in the business, it wouldn’t have mattered. Naz had been convinced of his success before the idea of expansion had even fully formed. It didn’t help that his brother was feeding him questionable intel—at least, I suspected he was. Regardless, nothing I could say would dissuade him. The only way to challenge him would be to kill him, and I wasn’t prepared to take my dissent that far.
I reminded myself how much I owed Naz and breathed through my frustration. “Yes, sir. I understand. How would you like me to proceed?”
“I want you back in Guaymas for my meeting with Morales next week. Then we move forward with the plan.”
“I’ll fly back first thing in the morning.”
The line was silent, but Naz hadn’t hung up, so I waited for whatever he still had to say.
“The dangers we’ll be facing are exactly why I need your full support, Primo. Tell me I don’t have to question your loyalty.”
“I owe you everything, Naz. You know I’ll always stand beside you.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” This time, the line clicked dead.
Relaxing into one of the leather swivel chairs outside a casino lounge, I dropped my head back and exhaled an exasperated sigh. For one of the most powerful, feared men in Mexico, I felt just as trapped as any other man at times like these.
What the hell was I bitching about?
I was wealthier than God and had the world at my feet. Dealing with Naz was a small price to pay. I needed to get my priorities in check and stop thinking like a petulant child.
As I brought my gaze back down to my surroundings, I realized I still had my unlit cigar in my hand. A hit of those sweet Cuban leaves was exactly what I needed. I reached in my jacket pocket and found it empty, then patted down my other pockets, unable to locate my lighter.
I recalled taking it out at the table and realized I must have left it there when Naz called. Weaving back through the crowd to the craps table I’d been at, I asked both the dealer and the pit boss if anyone had seen my silver lighter. Nothing.
I was about to chalk up the loss to my shit day when I recalled that sultry red grin the brunette had given me as she walked away.
Emptyhanded it is.
Surely not. Surely, the woman hadn’t stolen my lighter. She didn’t know me, but it wasn’t hard to guess I wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and I certainly wasn’t a good target for petty theft. As I replayed the scene in my mind, I grew increasingly certain that was exactly what had happened.
My stack of chips had gone untouched, so she wasn’t after money. The little viper had snatched my lighter as a statement. A challenge. A game.
I had sworn I wouldn’t be drawn in by her charade, but this was different—at least, that was what I told myself. It was a matter of respect. Pride. What kind of man would allow a woman to steal from him? I would have shot one of our soldiers for such a crime. I couldn’t allow her actions to go unaddressed.
Naz had just given me instructions, but I could see my plans derailing before me, alongside the vision of a sultry brunette with mischievous snake eyes. I would go back to Guaymas so I didn’t piss off Naz, but after our meeting, I was going on the hunt.
That little girl had no idea what she’d done, but she was about to find out.
Chapter 3
Giada
Two weeks after returning from Vegas to my boring life, I’d resorted to dining with my parents in order to get me out of my apartment. It was amazing how normal our lives were, considering my father was the consigliere to one of the most powerful mob bosses in New York. With such an average daily existence, it was no wonder my parents were able to hide my father’s mafia involvement from us girls for so long.
To an outsider looking in, my father seemed like any other respectable businessman. He told us he worked with his brother, my uncle Enzo, at the family construction company. He was always busy, and money was never an issue, so I’d never thought to question him. Knowing what I knew now, I wondered how much more my father kept hidden.
What went on behind closed doors? There was clearly more to my father and uncle, but what? I was insanely curious about these men I thought I knew. What had Uncle Enzo done to become boss? Had he killed people? Did he pay off politicians and the police? How did they make their money? Gambling? Drugs?
I’d tried to glean hints about my father’s secret life, but he kept a tight lid on that shit. Years of keeping his two worlds separate made him a master of secrecy. Unfortunately for him, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I was well versed at being sneaky, and I desperately wanted to know about my father’s other life because his lawless shortcomings made me feel less like a screwup. My impulsiveness and need to challenge authority weren’t aberrations; I’d come by the traits naturally. His criminal activity served as validation.
I was exactly who I was meant to be.
The revelation had been fascinating, and I’d wanted to know everything I could about this new side of my father. I’d been watching. Learning. My dad couldn’t hide everything, like respectful nods from associates or a glare from a local restaurant owner when my dad’s back was turned.
Between my observations and tidbits of information passed on from Alessia, I was able to piece together quite a bit. Al’s fiancé, Luca, didn’t tell her everything, but what she did send my way helped me understand the climate around me. In the past couple of weeks, something was making the men around me tense. The creases between my father’s brows had become a permanent fixture on his face.
The drama after Enzo’s former underboss turned on him had all been resolved, so tensions should have been easing. But I’d found the opposite to be true. My parents asked me more questions than ever about my whereabouts, and I was sure my mom had a bodyguard with her when I met her for lunch the week prior.
Something was going on, but my father would not give me any information. I’d tried early on to ask him questions and was told in no uncertain terms that family business would not be discussed. I just had to keep an eye out and see what I could learn on my own.
“How was church?” I asked my mother as I helped her set the table. Mom had wanted me to go to the special weekday mass, but I refused. As a consolation, I came to their place for dinner after the service. It was a pain in the ass to drive all the way out to Staten Island from Manhattan, but what the hell else did I have to do?
“You should have come. The message was perfect for you. Father Jacoby talked about respecting your elders and the importance they play in your life.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t that respect?”
“I’m talking about that mouth of yours. It’s hard to be respectful when you pop off without even thinking.”
“You know better than to expect me to change, Ma. I’m hopeless, remember? Your words, not mine.” I’d be lying if I said the words she’d slung at me weeks earlier hadn’t stung. She’d no doubt argue that it was a figure of speech, but I knew she’d meant them. It was no secret I’d never measure up to my mother’s exacting standards.