Page 116 of Bad Bishop

We were going to lose some Camorristi. He knew it. So did I. It was the sacrifice Vello agreed to make when I married his daughter.

“It’s not just going to be us,” Achilles said. “My father said either Enzo or Luca is coming. I’m leaning toward Enzo. He hasn’t participated in many combats yet. This’ll be a good exercise for him.”

I flicked one look at the youngest Ferrante brother. He was talking to Lila, using sign language. He was as illiterate at ASL as he was in English. But he was the only brother who seriously attempted it in the first place. And she seemed to be the fondest of him.

“No.” I turned to look at Achilles. “We’ll take Luca.”

“Luca’s wife’s pregnant.”

“So is mine,” I deadpanned. “Enzo stays here.”

I trusted him the most to take care of Lila if something happened to me. Luca was reliable, but too caught up in his own affairs. “And I thought Luca and Sofia were having troubles.”

“Not in bed, apparently.” Achilles lit himself a cigarette. “We’ll take the private plane. I have some weapons I’ve been meaning to try out.”

It was a shame Achilles wasn’t born in another century. He’d make such a prolific tyrant.

“They have a good amount of weapons, too,” Sam warned. “But we have the element of surprise. Alex is under the impression his enemies think he’s still in Russia. He flew in an intricate route, first to Germany, then to Peru, before landing in Vegas. He’ll only deal with you after he sorts out the failed shipment and find out which one of his men messed it up.”

Running a hand over my jawline, I asked, “How much does he know about Lila?”

“He knows you have a new wife, that she is pregnant, and that you spend all your nights in your apartment, meaning you aren’t visiting your whores anymore. I’m sure he deduced you’re fond of her,” Sam said flatly. “He’s evil, not dumb.”

Achilles shot me a dirty look. “Are you fucking my sister, Callaghan?”

“She’s mywife, you moron.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse,” he volleyed back. “I’m paying you not to touch her.”

“Been wiring you the sum back for two whole months now.”

His sister’s pussy was priceless. He couldn’t pry me out of it using an entire Navy SEALs unit.

“Now I have no choice but to do the same to you.” He cast an evil eye my way.

“Your only way of fucking me is if I’m a corpse,” Tierney deadpanned, swaggering past us in perfect timing, hips swinging, holding a glass of pink champagne. “Because there’sno way in hell I’m letting you screw me while I still have breath in me.”

“I never said you needed to be alive for the occasion, Cumcake,” Achilles said mildly. “You’d probably be tighter dead, with the number of assholes who went through you.”

Tierney laughed, knowing she had the upper hand when Achilles’s ears turned red.

Then a crew of servants appeared at the door and announced dinner was ready.

_______

Chiara Ferrante sat to the right of her husband, wearing a necklace that cost over two million dollars and a dissatisfied frown.

The frown was directed at her daughter.

Said daughter happened to take a seat in my lap, ignoring the chair next to me, digging her sweet little ass into my already painful erection to make a point. The point she was making? Never leave her dissatisfied and start something I had no intention of finishing.

The chitchat had ceased as soon as Lila assumed her position in my lap. All heads turned to us. All but President Keaton’s.

“The caprese is divine,” he announced, spearing a tomato with his fork. “Who made it?”

“We hire chef Ambrose Casablancas for special events,” Vello boasted. The diminished man resembled an ugly baby bird. Pink and plucked, with plumes of white hair sticking randomly from his bald head.

Keaton raised an eyebrow. “I tried hiring him for an event at the White House. He said he doesn’t associate himself with politicians. I see he doesn’t extend the same disdain to criminals.”