Page 25 of Fixate (Devious Mafia Daddies #2)

Pharrell

Dario's face contorted as he gave me the news. "I'm really sorry.”

I shook my head. "What do you mean you're sorry?"

He laid the papers on the desk in front of me. We had come to my office at the casino to go over the finances for this quarter. As my CFO, he handled all the financials across all my businesses. He was one of the few people that I trusted with my money.

My clean money, anyway.

Because no matter how many times I had been told I shouldn't, I kept my mafia life away from my legal businesses.

Lyon Enterprises, the company I built to house everything I had that was legitimate, would not be tainted by the death and destruction of the underground.

Except it was still being harmed.

I just needed to find out how.

Immediately I noticed the differences in the numbers that he presented to me. Our profits were down substantially, yet everything appeared to be going correctly.

"I know you've already dug through this. What did you find?" I asked.

He straightened his suit jacket before dropping into the empty seat across from me.

We were second cousins, our mother's having been cousins first. And it was funny because we looked nothing alike yet managed to have the exact same mannerisms.

Dario was put together in a nice suit, and he was all business. He reminded me a lot of Henri, if Henri didn't know how to kill a man in fifteen ways.

Okay, I'm lying. Fifteen was an underestimate.

It was more like forty-five or fifty. That was just with his bare hands.

I shook my head to focus on what Dario was telling me.

“As I was saying,” he started again, his eyes clearly knowing that I had gotten lost in my thoughts.

“As I was saying, the reports all look as if they normally would.

The numbers should make sense. But they don't match what was actually deposited and shown as revenue. When I tracked it all down—and believe me it took far longer than it should have—I discovered all the discrepancies were connected to one section of entities.”

He paused as if waiting for me to encourage him to continue. I wouldn't, of course. This wasn't a game to me.

It was my money, my livelihood.

No one stole from me and got away with it.

“The money missing is from the strip clubs,” he finally said once he realized I wasn’t going to take the bait.

I picked the pages back up and read them again. The numbers for the clubs were all separate because with Dario's need for detail, he made sure each business was outlined thoroughly during these meetings.

When I scanned over each club, I could see that their profits were showing higher than what was actually deposited. The issue with discrepancies such as this was that you had to not only pinpoint where it came from, but who was behind it.

It could be some of the girls merely taking money from the registers and trying to cover it up, or a manager who wanted to make an extra buck and took from the profits by lying when he closes for the night.

Neither of those sounded like what actually happened.

When I placed the papers back down on my desk and leaned forward onto my elbows to look at Dario, he was grinning.

It was always so strange to see him amused because his expressions typically appeared bored. He had what a lot of people would call the resting bitch face except I knew he was never resting.

More like he was highly uninterested in whatever you were saying. His mind would be elbow deep in equations and ways to make more money.

It wasn't that he didn't like people or other things. He was just really damn good with numbers and nothing else mattered to him.

It was his superpower and the main reason that he was the CFO of Lyon Enterprises.

“Since you're bringing this up so casually, I'm going to assume that you have already figured out who is behind this. If not, then we need to get searching. I want my money, and I want it now.”

Dario nodded quickly. “I do know exactly who it is. While I don't have him in custody yet, I'm keeping a close eye on him. It appears that he has some debt owed to another group of people.”

The way he slowly said “group of people” had my hackles up.

“Which group?” I asked, though I already suspected…

“Bratva. He's in deep with her people.”

Stasia and Dario never got along. She was always really good about making people feel welcome, but she could never quite understand exactly what Dario needed.

Everyone else would get her smile or perfectly made-up persona. Occasionally, she'd bring out the hardcore mafia princess energy to keep them in line.

But my cousin didn't respond to either of those. He barely responded to me, and I believed most of that was only because we were related.

I had grown up with him. Had seen all the different ways he had experimented with styles and speech patterns. For so long he had worked to fit into what society wanted him to be. Whether it was dressing up or slowing down his speech.

Because excited Dario was a runaway train. People rarely accepted him as he was.

It took a long time for him to realize it didn't matter. You could never be good enough for people who always wanted more.

And Stasia being who she was couldn't handle the fact that he wasn't immediately drawn to her.

So, the two of them butted heads.

No matter what I did to try and get them to get along, it was hopeless.

When she went against our family and tried to have me killed, Dario felt vindicated in his hatred for her. It was like every single interaction they had came with a new meaning. And her name was one he hated saying now.

“So let me get this straight. We've got someone in our clubs connected to the Bratva because he owes them money and he's skimming off our books to pay them back. Is that what I'm getting?”

“Yes. That's a succinct way of putting it.”

I sighed and picked up my phone. “You know his name?”

Dario nodded.

I dialed the one person who I knew would give me proper advice on what to do. Not because I couldn't make the decision alone but given my temper and how frustrating this whole process was, I knew I needed outside input.

Ricardo answered on the first ring. I wondered if it was because he’d had his phone in hand or simply because he was excited to hear from me.

My boy was eager that way.

No matter how much he tried to suppress those urges or how hard he worked to not let me see it, I knew. And I was just as gone over him.

I hid it better of course.

At least until we were alone together. Then all bets were off.

"Yes?" he asked.

The lack of the word 'Daddy' let me know he wasn't alone.

“I'm looking at finances, and it seems we have someone on the legit side who owes money to the Bratva. He's been taking from us to pay them off. I'm a bit torn about what to do.”

Dario's eyes went wide. Though I don't flat out ask Ricardo’s opinion, it's clear that I wanted it.

Ricardo hummed across the line. “That is a tricky situation given the alliance that was just formed.”

"Exactly," I replied.

"If it were me," he started, "I would say that this person has to be made an example of.

You can either turn him over to the Bratva and say that his payment source has been cut off, or you can take care of it yourself.

And then if the Bratva comes looking for you, you can tell them that you found out he was stealing from you and you put an end to it. "

I chuckled. “Either way he ends up dead, and I don't get my money back.”

Ricardo made a noise on the other end of the line. It was almost like a laugh but not quite.

"You weren't gonna get your money back anyway. If he's been stealing from you to pay off the Bratva, then the money's gone. It's not like they'll pay you back."

He was right. I wasn't going to get any of it back no matter what happened to the thief.

Even if, for some reason, Vlad wanted to be nice to me — which he obviously wouldn't — I knew there was no way I would see a dime of what had been taken.

"Thank you for your help," I said.

That was meant to be the end of the call, except I heard him say, "Wait."

I held still and listened to his heavy breath. There was the echoing sound of footsteps and then a door opening.

Had he moved somewhere to be alone? Was there something he needed to say that he couldn't otherwise?

“Daddy,” he whispered.

I shivered with the force of the need that shot through me.

"Yes, mon chou?"

"I miss you," he said softly.

I closed my eyes. My free hand gripped tightly to the arm of my chair.

I wanted to get up from my desk and run to him. Wanted to take him home and show him just how much I missed him too.

Instead, I replied, "I miss you as well."

"Dinner?"

"Yes. Absolutely," he said eagerly. “And then dessert?”

I laughed softly. "Always. Whatever you want is yours."

He hummed. "You shouldn't make promises like that, Daddy. Or I'll be inclined to make you keep them.”

“For you, I would.”

"See you soon," he said, then ended the call.

I put my phone down on my desk, keeping my eyes closed as I basked in the feelings that swam through me.

A noise made my eyes pop open. My attention returned to Dario. I had completely forgotten he was even in the room.

He was quiet in that way, making himself nearly invisible. And I almost regretted that he saw the entire exchange because for as much as I knew him, he knew me as well.

He knew that I had never been that way with Stasia.

He knew that I was the type who preferred submissive partners.

And he knew that I had just brought in someone new to help with the other side of my work.

Though Ricardo had been involved in the casinos as well, he had not met Dario yet.

“Is he the one from the Romano camp?”

I nodded.

“And you've known him for years?” Dario questioned.

“I have. We've met multiple times on and off. Dante was his boss for a very long time and now I am.”

“Is that all you are?”

At the question. I tilted my head. “Why do you ask?”

His eyes cut to the side, a sure sign he was about to lie.

“I don't know,” he said.