Page 40 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

FINN

T apping my rings on the table in our office inside Inferno, I listen to the clock ticking in the background, wondering what Stephanie is doing today.

She’s close; I can almost taste it—so close to becoming mine.

The fact that she quit her job at the club is another confirmation. And what a good girl for doing it before I even suggested it.

The door opens, and I’m met with Enzo’s icy blue stare and his pristine, tailored navy suit.

"Mr. Testa," I greet as I stand to shake his hand.

"Dr. Quinn."

He takes the seat opposite me, and I pour him a scotch and myself one of Dad’s whiskeys.

Here he is, our king, looking fucking exhausted. He’s quieter than usual. Busy plotting world domination still, I assume.

"How can I help you?" I ask.

Normally he deals with Declan. Him being the boss and all. Mine and Enzo’s interactions are usually brief and sharp. There’s always been an unspoken agreement between us—we don’t particularly like each other.

I see through him.

And he probably sees straight through me.

"Business already?" he grins, thick Italian accent filling the room.

I shrug. "I don’t know what else to talk to you about, Enzo. It’s not often we’re in the same room on our own."

He chews the inside of his cheek. "And for that, I apologize, Finn."

Fuck. Sincerity?

"It’s fine. I get it."

He shakes his head. "You’re an important member of the organization. It doesn’t matter what your personal opinion is of me—but I’d like to change that."

His gaze locks on mine.

"Why do you care?" I ask, sipping my drink.

"Peace making. And I’ve underestimated your skill. I’d like to build something better."

So, he has a use for me.

"Look, Enzo. Let’s not talk in circles. Just be direct. What do you need me to do?"

He grins. "See? Cunning. Smart." He taps his temple.

"So I’ve been told."

"Nothing—yet. But I am here with a peace offering. The start of our new friendship together."

"Hmm."

I recline in my chair.

"I’ve spoken to Mikhail Volkov and Frankie Falcone. Both men have agreed to assist you with manpower when you go to end the Bowens in London."

I nod. "What do I owe them in return?"

"Nothing. This is my point. The Quinns, the Volkovs, and the Falcones are one family. You may be in different states, but you all have the same goal. United, we can take over—not just here. Everywhere. Decadence has given me invaluable knowledge and leads. You brothers are owed this."

I scratch my stubble. Something doesn’t sit right. Mikhail never mentioned London when I saw him in Vegas.

"This isn’t about London, though, is it?"

He tugs at his collar. "See? Fucking smart. It is—and it isn’t. You’ll need backup in London. It’s a fucking minefield. But I need the three units ready in case another enemy rears his ugly head."

It all clicks.

"The Preacher?"

He stills. Confirmation.

"Yes."

"I take it you found out that I’ve already landed on his hit list."

He clears his throat. "I know. That’s partly why I’m here.

I’ve been tracking the cult for a long time.

It’s grown steadily but is mainly limited to Ohio, but also with traces to Russia.

But they’ve started coming out of the shadows, getting braver.

It’s partly why we needed the Decadence games in the first place.

I thought eventually the cunt would start to enter women. "

"He is," I cut in. "Well—his men are."

Enzo nods. "Yes. But he has men everywhere now. It works differently than us. It’s not mafia—it’s a fucking religion. And the one at the top? A ghost. But I’m confident by continuing the games—he’ll come out of hiding. And then we’ll have a real war on our hands."

I drain my drink.

I knew something was off. Always trust my gut.

“We killed his logistics guy.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“I know. I don’t think we have long before this explodes. We need London dealt with.”

"So, I’m bait?" I smirk.

"In a way, yes. But think of it this way—it’s the only way to take down the largest, most unknown sex trafficking ring this country’s ever seen."

I take a breath. That’s the point of Inferno. Of Decadence.

Our chocolate factory is our sweet haven. Yet behind the gates—it’s merely an illusion.

A trap. A weapon. A sanctuary for vengeance.

"We have more games planned for next year. The twins will run one together. Then Drago steps up."

"Keep Drago on your side. Don’t let him go back to Russia."

I raise a brow. "What exactly was his role in Russia?"

Drago’s past is hazy. But he has his hands in everything. He’s lived a hell of a life.

"What wasn’t it? He’s worked for many families over the years. They saw him as an asset—but he wasn’t evil enough. He has morals. Lines he won’t cross. That backfired. But, if we’re right and The Preacher has ties there somehow. We need him and his contacts."

Makes sense.

Which is why he fits here. Another set of fists to keep our families safe.

"So, my plan—take out the Bowens in London as soon as I can. Hopefully within the month. Once that’s done, we’ll have allies there too. Then yes—we’ll help take down The Preacher. All of us."

Enzo raises his glass. "I like this. I’ll keep digging on them. We need to move fast and stay quiet. Let’s hold off on any more murders. We keep them alive."

"I agree. But they’ll never talk. He was spouting crap about going to heaven for keeping silent."

I check the time on my Rolex. Shift starts in an hour.

"There’s one more thing."

"Go on."

"This year’s games are ready to go. But with London and now The Preacher—I can’t run them and handle the murders too. We’ve got sway in the hospital, but that only lasts so long before people talk."

He swirls the ice in his glass.

"We don’t want you burning out, do we?" he says with sarcasm.

"Not really. I’m not superhuman, Enzo. And quitting my real job? Non-negotiable."

I narrow my eyes. He needs to understand. I’m not stepping away from the hospital. Nor Stephanie.

I used to think it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

But maybe it’s not the place.

Maybe it’s the person.

My fucking wife.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I delay the games. Just until we’re finished in London. The four rooms are ready. Once we’re back—I’ll set a date."

He scratches his chin.

"And let’s face it, we don’t want more of The Preacher’s men entering women until we figure them out."

He swears in Italian under his breath.

"You’re right."

I grin. I know.

"Don’t be so smug," he mutters.

The first time we’ve ever shared a joke.

"So, we have an agreement? We start fresh?" he asks, extending his tattooed hand.

"Yeah. I’ll stop imagining killing you in your sleep once a week."

His eyes widen.

I shake his hand firmly.

"Enzo, since we’re friends now—gotta say—you look like shit. You need to sleep. Bad for your heart, working like this. And that’s one organ you really want functioning."

He rubs his chest. "Doctor’s orders?"

"Exactly."

He pulls a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

"And these? Do they help?"

He offers me one. I take it and light it.

"Yep. Keeps the stress down."

"Good. So I’m doing something right. My heart’s made of steel anyway," he mutters. Almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

I frown. I thought mine was too.

But lately…

My heart of ice is starting to thaw.

"Enzo, if I have a heart—everyone fucking does."

He nods slowly, dragging on his smoke.

"Maybe."

My stomach flips thinking about seeing Stephanie today. I hate to admit it, but even before I married her, part of the buzz of work was winding her up.

Now? Still that.

But also seeing how horny I can make her.

I need to do something about it soon. Because edging her is starting to bring out something else. Something lethal.

And maybe she’ll actually kill me before I get my dick in her.

Before I die, I need to experience her.

It’s my life’s fucking calling to explore every inch of her kinks.

I’ve spent years learning everything about her.

Now, my obsession runs deeper than I ever thought it could.