Page 67 of Always Mine
A slow clapping draws our attention to the far end of the big table. “Well, well, well. About fucking time.”
Luca and I exchange a silent, skeptical look and move closer to where the voice is coming from. Sitting in a plush, high-backed white chair is Domenic Rizzo, dressed all in black. The stark contrast highlights the lethal edge to his pristine image. His buzz cut highlights his razor-sharp features and dark, almost black, beady eyes. He smiles wide, his pearly whites on full display, but it’s far from friendly. But what surprises me more is the man sitting to his right, with elbows on the table and fingers steepled under his chin. AJ Gigioliotti. My supposed business partner and the man I’ve come to respect as a friend and trust almost like family. What the fuck is going on here—is he double-crossing me? As though he can read my thoughts, he raises one eyebrow almost imperceptibly and gives a small, reassuring tilt of his head. He lets Rizzo continue.
“You know Mr. F1, when I saw your puppy-dog eyes following Arabella’s every move all night, I took you for more of a golden retriever. But maybe you’ve got a bit of rottweiler in you after all,” says Rizzo with mock humor. “Will come in handy on the track this year if you want to beat Carter Norton.”
Truthfully, he is more golden retriever, but right now he’s vibrating like a guard dog ready to attack. I place a hand across his chest to stop him from launching himself across the room.
“Regardless, you’ve been a good puppy and fetched just the person I needed to speak with.”
Bingo. Happy coincidences: 0. Ulterior motives: 1.
“I could’ve just made a play for this one’s little cousin,” he says, thumbing at AJ. “Leave you all out of it. But the Godfathers in Sicily have negotiated their own beneficial business deal for that beauty, which makes her off-limits, so…”
The cock of a gun gets my attention and I swing my gaze to see AJ pointing his directly at Rizzo’s temple.
“Rizzo. That’s enough,” growls AJ ominously. “I won’t hesitate to pull this fucking trigger.”
Rizzo just snorts. “Put the fucking gun away. I’m not going to spill any of our family secrets here.”
The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I don’t miss the way he emphasizes the words. I’ve grown close to Chiara these past few weeks, and I don’t like the sound of this arrangement. Not one fucking bit. AJ places his piece back down on the table, his hand resting on top of it.
“Rizzo. I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but I’m no liar. So respectfully, what the fuck is happening here?” I ask nonchalantly, resting my hand on the gun in my waistband.
I know I should fear him. Tread carefully given that he and his men who have appeared out of their hiding spots and stationed themselves around the room are probably armed too. But I refuse to let him intimidate me.
He clocks the move and raises his eyebrow. “You too, huh. You really don’t want to do that.” A series of clicks ricochet around the room. I drop my hand back to my side in silent surrender. I’d prefer not to die tonight. We stare each other down for a beat before he gestures theatrically towards AJ. “Well as you’re aware, you and your business partner here are so close”—he draws together his thumb and forefinger until they’re almost touching to illustrate—“so fucking close. In twenty-four hours this place could be all yours. But imagine my shock when I got word from my lawyer that you’ve been threatening him.” He raises his eyebrowsat me in mock shock. “That I might be selling my beloved club to a thug and a rat.” He gasps and clutches his heart. This fucker missed his calling as an actor. “I thought to myself, this can’t be right. So I called a crisis meeting, because I’d hate to make a rash decision…like, pull the deal.” He smiles, but it’s more a snarl, and then the real Rizzo bares his teeth. “Here’s the thing, Marco. Arty is very important to me. He’s integral to my business in many ways. So, when I learn you’re threatening to take him down, well that makes me a little mad, because I like to protect the people who are important to me. And when I’m mad, there’s no telling what I might do.”
He pauses for a moment to take out his phone. Standing, he comes closer to us and unlocks it, opening to a screen he has prepared and holding it up to my face, showing me a picture of Sophia. Motherfucker.
“I’m guessing you would hate any sort of harm to come to that sexy-as-fuck Princi Princess that left here earlier, considering she’s waiting at home for you right now,” he says pointedly, alluding to the fact he’s keeping tabs on us.
I grind my molars and ball my fists but will myself to remain level-headed. “Leave her the fuck out of this, Rizzo. This wasn’t part of the deal.”
Forging on, he swings his attention to Luca and brings up another frame on his screen.
From the fall of my friend’s face, it must be incriminating.
“If yourbroMarco here fails to cooperate, Cinderella’s penchant for partying will become front page news. I’m positive a certain blogger would love to receive an anonymous tip-off.”
“Fuck you! Just tell me where she is,” barks Luca, rushing forward.
Chapter forty-two
What Are You Going To Do About It?
Marco
RizzogetsrightinLuca’s face. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, puppy. Or what, huh? What do you think you’re going to do about it?”
Luca growls in response. Rizzo responds by gnashing his teeth followed up by a short maniacal laugh.
Before I can jump in, AJ’s deep and commanding voice cuts through the air. “Rizzo, get to the fucking point. I don’t have all night. I was in the middle of important business myself when you summoned me.”
Turning his hard stare on AJ, he carries on with this fucking charade. “Ahhh, AJ. Should we talk about that wild little cousin of yours?” he taps his chin like he’s thinking. “I have it on good authority she might be five-foot-nothing, but she’s not so innocent anymore.” He whistles conspiratorially, like he’s privy to some salacious secret about her.
AJ snaps. Jumping to his feet, he slaps both hands on the table. “Rizzo, you fucking agreed not to drag her anywhere near this. I will not fucking hesitate to put a bullet in your head myself if you so much as gonear her.”
“Well, that’s all up to you. Don’t even fucking think about fucking with Arty Bartholomew Jones. He’s my lawyer and has my protection. Besides that, his industry connections are just as important to me as the pretty ladies in your lives.”