Page 25

25

ROMEO

The cold Chicago wind slapped my face as I descended the jet stairs.

I didn’t want to be in this fucking city.

I’d thought about Juliet the entire flight. My hard-on had made for an uncomfortable journey, but it’s not like I could control my dick when thinking about my angel.

Her pink lips were so soft, her cheeks so pretty when she blushed. I wanted to explore her whole body, to strip her down until she screamed my name with pleasure, but the memory of how she’d tensed when I’d tried to go further replayed in my mind. The thought of doing anything that hurt her or made her uncomfortable killed me. I assumed her hesitation was because she was inexperienced. My brain wouldn’t allow any other possibility—that maybe Juliet had been hurt in some way. No matter the reason, I surprisingly wasn’t in a rush. After years of anonymous one-night-stands, I hardly recognized this new Romeo who would be perfectly content to just sit in Juliet’s presence, basking in it like a flower soaking up her sunshine.

I scowled as Enzo, Dante, Alessandro, and I approached the armored SUV waiting for us on the tarmac. Ivanov had offered us a driver, but we’d declined. Our trust in the new Pakhan was tenuous, and we needed to maintain control on this trip.

I slammed the driver’s side door after I got in, the other guys following.

“You’ve been spending too much time with the Boss,” Enzo said as I pulled out of the private airport.

“What?”

“You’ve stolen his scowl.”

I flipped him off as I merged one-handed into Chicago traffic.

“Let’s just get the Bratva backup we need and get out of here,” I said.

“Eager to get back to someone?” Dante asked with a shit-eating smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered.

I hadn’t told anyone besides Sienna and Matteo about Juliet, but obviously I hadn’t been as discreet as I’d thought. Mafia men were notorious gossips.

I tuned the guys out as I drove to the Pakhan’s house. The last time I was in Chicago, it was to stop the wedding of Sofiya’s sister, Mila, to Arben, the former head of the Albanian Mafia. We’d thought that was the end of the Albanian conflict, but then the fucking Butcher came to our city.

I pulled up to the gate in front of the mansion and rolled down the window to speak to the guards.

“Looks like the Beast’s castle,” Alessandro said. All of us threw him confused looks. “You know, from Beauty and the Beast .” When none of us responded, he crossed his arms, sat back in his seat, and muttered, “It’s a good movie.”

I rolled my eyes as the guard waved us through the gate and up a winding road to the mansion, which looked like it was built specifically to intimidate anyone who walked through its doors.

A line of people met us outside—all wearing black suits and all armed. In front was Dimitri Ivanov. The last time I saw him, he’d had a buzz-cut. Now his blond hair was grown out and a short beard lined his square jaw, not that it softened his appearance in any way. He was huge, his shoulders and chest broad, and he had small scars on the backs of his hands, just like I did. I’d heard rumors that brass knuckles were his weapon of choice.

“De Luca,” he said, lifting his chin. “Welcome.”

We shook hands, both our grips crushing the other.

“This is my second, Maxim Petrov, my sovietnik, Nikolai Antonov, and my enforcer, Sergey Sokolov.”

I introduced my men, and we headed inside to begin our negotiations.

* * *

“Russia is the world’s largest producers of rough diamonds. We have an agreement with several Russian diamond exporters who want a greater foothold in the black market here. Opening up access to New York City and upstate trading routes would go a long way toward distribution.” Ivanov sat at the head of a long table. The room’s furnishings were almost gaudy in their opulence, remnants of the former Pakhan’s style. I wondered if Dimitri would change things. How much did he take after his father?

“What are you willing to give us in return for trade route access?” I asked.

Dimitri’s expression was cold as he studied me. “We assume you’ll want a percentage of sales.”

I inclined my head.

“But that’s not what we’re offering.”

“Is that so?” I arched an eyebrow.

“You need our help to defeat the Albanians since you have been useless at eliminating the threat so far.”

My men and I were on our feet instantly, hands on our weapons. Dimitri’s men pulled their guns, but the Pakhan remained seated, looking completely unbothered. He said something to his men in Russian and they lowered their weapons.

“That’s why you’re here, is it not? You need support against the Butcher and the rest of the Albanians,” he said.

I sank back into my seat, my men staying alert and standing behind me. I fucking hated admitting to a weakness, but Ivanov was right.

“And if we did?” I asked.

“I would be willing to offer a number of my men to your cause. In exchange, you will give us access to the New York trade routes without taking a cut of the diamond trade for the first five years.”

I scoffed. “Five years for a handful of men?”

“Five years for reestablishing control over your city. All eyes are on New York, waiting to see who will emerge victorious. And right now, I wouldn’t bet on your odds.”

“Your sister is in the city. Are you telling me you’ll let the Albanians take over and put her life in jeopardy?”

“If your Don can’t protect his wife,” he said with a sneer, “she’ll come live here where I can.”

I forced my face to remain expressionless even as my blood boiled and my heart pounded at the insinuation that we couldn’t protect our own. It was a good thing Matteo wasn’t here because Dimitri Ivanov would be dead for that insult and our families at war.

“Big words for a man who abandoned his sister to be mistreated by your father for years,” I said.

The Pakhan’s jaw clenched—the first sign that he was affected.

We stared at each other, iciness crackling between us, until Dimitri inclined his head. “We are united in our goals. We want Sofiya safe. I want the trade routes. You want your city free of the Albanians.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Agreed. How many men can you send to us?”

“Two dozen. All highly trained.”

We needed his men to take posts around the city to track the Albanians’ movements since they were thwarting our surveillance.

“Do you know how they’re getting around your cameras?” Dimitri asked.

I shook my head. “We have eyes around the entire city, and somehow they’re avoiding them.”

“Your hacker is good?”

“He is.” Franco was the best we’d ever had. Maybe besides Sienna, who Matteo refused to bring in. But the Albanians still eluded us.

Dimitri hummed. “Do we have a deal, then?”

“We want three dozen men. We can give you six months of free use of our trade routes. Then we will go to the typical thirty percent fee.”

The Pakhan scoffed and so started our negotiations. Alessandro took point—he was more skilled with numbers—and the tedious conversation went late into the night. It took everything in me to stop my eyes from glazing over, and my fingers itched to check my phone to see if Juliet had called or texted. I didn’t like being so far away from her. What if something happened?

We finally landed on thirty Bratva soldiers in exchange for eight months of free trade, followed by a gradual increase in the percentage we would take off the top.

Dimitri clapped his hands together. “Right. It’s been a long night. Come back for dinner tomorrow, and we can sign the paperwork.”

I was relieved to stand from my chair. This had gone on way too fucking long.

Dimitri and I exchanged another bone-crushing handshake, and we were out the door, heading to the hotel rooms we had booked downtown.