Page 59 of Devil's Azalea

“You still remember the meeting with your brothers in an hour, right?” Enzo’s question is perfectly timed, because Ihadforgotten about it.

“Damn it,” I curse.

We got the request for a quick thirty-minute meeting from Roberto Ricci, one of the best capos we have. His territory borders both Romero’s and mine along the East River.

The man is a powerful don who rose fast through the ranks thanks to his swift decisiveness and ruthlessness, so his request carried serious weight. When Roberto calls a meeting citing ‘urgent observations’, you clear your fucking schedule.

“Do I have anything before the meeting?” I ask, already mentally rearranging my day.

“No, I made sure to move everything else around once the meeting with Ricci was confirmed.”

Good. Enzo’s efficiency never fails me. It’s why he’s still breathing.

The meeting is taking place at one of my downtown restaurants. Roberto insisted the matter was too sensitive to discuss in public, so I booked out the VIP section. It will give us morethan enough privacy, and my staff know better than to interrupt my meetings unless strictly necessary.

I glance down at my computer’s screen. A few pages of reports still need my attention.

One thing I excel at is keeping the wheels of my empire running like clockwork, and that starts with reading the daily reports. My men answer to Enzo, who ensures I stay updated on what’s happening with every product we’re moving—in both my legal and less legal businesses.

At any given moment, I can tell how much product is moving through my territory and exactly how much money I’m making per hour. It’s a level of control that no other don—here or anywhere else—can match.

I also get detailed reports on every single man under my command, from the lowest soldier to the highest capo. I know who’s loyal, who’s skimming, who’s ambitious, who’s growing comfortable.Knowledge is power, and I hoard it like a fucking dragon.

That’s how I catch anyone stupid enough to try stealing from me. Though there haven’t been any incidents like that in years. Still, I like to keep on top of things—and keep them guessing. None of them know how I get the intel. Even Enzo isn’t fully aware.

“Alright. Give me a few minutes to sort through this, then we can leave.”

I skim through the reports quickly, my mood darkening as patterns emerge. Some of my operations are showing signs of complacency.Fucking idiots think they can relax now that we’re on top.Don’t they understand that the apex is where you’re most exposed?

The enemy always watches and strikes when the guards are down.

I make a mental note to schedule surprise appearances at the underperforming nightclubs. Nothing motivates like seeingthe boss materialize out of nowhere. They need a reminder that my absence doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t everywhere. A taste of fear should straighten their spines. And if that doesn’t work…

Well, they get exactly one chance to fix their mistakes. After that, they can explain their failures to Satan personally. I have zero patience for leeches fattening themselves on my empire.

I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes gone already? Fuck. I close the reports tab and shut down my laptop, returning it to its hiding spot before getting to my feet and shrugging on my jacket.

Now that we’re fully into December, it seems hellbent on snowing every fucking day, which is starting to grate on my nerves. Perhaps I should look into investing in weather manipulation technology. I hate unpredictable things beyond my control—even with meteorologists’ best efforts, Mother Nature remains stubbornly chaotic.

I stride out of my office and Enzo gets up from his seat, falling into step beside me as we head to the elevator. “My brothers?”

“All en route to the restaurant now,” he answers, checking his tablet. “Michael says he can’t stay long. He wants you to find a way to move the meeting along quickly once we get there.”

Of course. His wife and daughters are back home now, and he’s been reluctant to leave their sides. Understandable.

As we reach the basement garage, my eyes rake over my collection of cars. For a moment, I linger on one of my luxurious sports cars, remembering the raw thrill of pushing the BMW to its limits a few days ago. But I opt for practicality today—one of my SUVs. Lower profile. Better security. I don’t want to stand out any more than necessary today.

“You’re driving,” I tell Enzo, moving towards the passenger seat.

“I would have loved to drive a few days ago,” he grumbles under his breath as we climb into the vehicle.

I give him a sharp look. “What was that?”

“With the snow on the road, driving the SUV is the best choice,” he says in a louder voice, his gaze fixed firmly ahead as he turns the ignition. Two more SUVs follow as we pull out of the garage.

Now that I have a moment to myself, I find my thoughts drifting to Emilia. To the sweet, desperate noises she made into my throat two days ago. The memory is so vivid I can almost taste her warm breath, feel the way she melted into me before?—

Not now.