Page 9 of Ruthless Lord

Stefano

I follow Albert through the crowded venue toward the VIP stairs. I’m sweaty and hurting all over from the fight. My knee twinges as I limp after him, grunting with each frustrating step. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be like this. Like the fight weren’t everything to me.

But I tried being a normal man. For the past few months, I’ve looked at spreadsheets, spoken with workers, sat in an office and pretended like the computer screen mattered.

It all felt wrong. I was drowning in that office chair. Even walking in the depot with the workers, laughing with the mechanics, hanging around the drivers, none of that remotely helped.

The itch was still there, deep in my fucked-up soul.

It never helped though. The battles in the ring. They make me feel alive for the brief time it takes to pummel another human into submission, but they never cleanse the rot in me. I don’t come out the other side purified in the fire of combat.

I stumble out hurting more, limping, grunting, hoping my wounds heal enough to get out of bed in the morning, but still needing more.

Life’s always that way. You get a taste of something good and suddenly it’s not enough.

Albert takes me to the fancy boxes. These quiet, carpet-lined halls are for the rich bastards.

Men and women—though let’s be real, mostly men—fly from all over the world to watch these premier underground fights.

Millions of dollars pass hands in wagers.

High-end meals are served and alcohol flows like an alpine spring.

Not to mention all the other vices. Drugs, women, men, whatever. Sex and sometimes worse. I hear the cleaners have one hell of a job ahead of them each morning.

“He’s right through here.” Albert smiles at me and gestures at a door marked VIP. “I request only that you hear him out.”

“Yeah, sure.” I reach to open the door, but Albert doesn’t move out of the way.

“And about the other night. With Charlotte Westbrook.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Thought she went by Charlie.”

“She does.” Albert clears his throat and looks away. “Thank you for what you did.”

Well now, that’s a surprise. I get the feeling a man like Albert doesn’t say thanks all that much. “No problem.”

“You won’t hear that from anyone else, but I think you deserve it. Charlie’s a good person, even if she was raised under less than good circumstances. You saved her life, and for that, I feel like I owe you.”

“No worries.”

“Right. Of course not.” He stares at me for a moment, head tilted. “You really are a man of few words, aren’t you? Most fighters in your position would try to get something out of me.”

“Didn’t save the girl for that.”

“Still, I’m offering.”

“Not interested.” I nod at the door. “You want to move?”

Albert shrugs and steps aside without another word.

Chatty fucker. I head into the box, into a dimly lit and richly appointed pleasure room.

There’s a bar like a high-end gastropub against one wall with a discreet and obscenely well-paid bartender casually mixing a drink.

A table is set up in the middle of the room with the remains of what looks like it was a very good dinner.

And standing at the far end near the windows overlooking the fighting ring is an old man.

I’d bet eighty, at least, but still lean and needle-sharp. He turns to look at me, hands clasped behind his back. He’s in a neat suit, not overly fancy, but clearly expensive. I can see some mild resemblance to Charlie in his cheeks and eyes. His lips are tugged into a grim smile.

But he’s not the real surprise.

My breath is nearly sucked away when I realize there’s another person in the room.

Sitting at the table is Adriano Marino.

The Don of the Marino Famiglia and my boss’s boss.

I go very still. The door clicks shut behind me. The bartender’s shaking a drink and everyone’s staring at me. Adriano’s got an almost apologetic smirk on his face, leaning back in his chair casually, shoulders shrugged to the side.

If the Don is here, then this is serious.

I didn’t think fucking that girl was a huge deal. She lodged herself in my brain, but that’s only my problem.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Don Marino,” I say finally, breaking the tense silence. “Didn’t expect you.”

“Trust me, Stefano, I’m almost as surprised as you are.” He nods slightly toward the old man. “This is Harrison Westbrook. Patriarch of the Westbrook family. You ever heard of the Westbrook Chemical Company?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“He owns it.” Adriano gestures for me to sit.

I don’t move.

“I’m all of that, but I’m also the grandfather of Charlie,” Harrison says simply as he comes over to the table. He sits down opposite Adriano, forcing me to shift over between them.

Well, fuck.

Both men are looking at me like I’m supposed to say something. But honestly, I’m not equipped for this.

If they wanted me to beat that bartender into a bloody rag, that’s easy. I could do that without breaking a sweat.

But talking about the girl? And my indiscretion about her?

I should’ve expected this from Albert’s little comment before coming in here.

“How’s she doing?” I ask stupidly, aware it’s the wrong thing to say.

Adriano’s grin gets bigger. “Not so great, but we’re working on that. Seriously, Stefano, sit down. You’re looming. It’s annoying.”

I reluctantly take a seat. The bartender brings the drink over and places it in front of me. Some fancy martini shit. I take a long sip because I’ve got nothing else and could use something stiff. My lower back aches, but the alcohol should help dull it.

“Since you don’t seem like the type to appreciate small talk, I think we should skip straight to why we called you here.

” Harrison glances at Adriano, who gives him a slight nod.

“You should understand that I am well aware of your evening with my granddaughter. I’m not going to hold it against you, however. ”

“That’s good to know.”

Harrison’s lips twitch in a slight smile. “But in order for us to make everything right, we need something from you.”

Adriano leans forward. “The Westbrook family is looking for a new business partner. We were discussing terms before you came in here.”

I look between the two men. These are powerful bastards used to getting their way. Definitely used to making men like me do their bidding. Typically, I’d walk out of here with orders to murder some poor fuck. Which wouldn’t be so bad.

But this is definitely going to be worse.

“What do I have to do with that?”

Adriano holds my stare. The Don’s a hard man. Even with bad news about to drop on my skull like a hammer, he’s not shying away. I respect that about him. “I need you to marry Charlie.”

Well, shit.

I did not expect that.

Some dirty job, sure. Maybe a little flagellation, a little penance for my sins.

But marriage?

I shake my head. “No.”

“You don’t understand, Stefano.” Harrison smoothly takes over. “We want to ensure our business arrangement is permanent and ironclad. Since you already sullied my granddaughter?—”

“Didn’t sully shit,” I grunt at him.

The old man leans back. “You didn’t sleep with her?”

“Oh, no, I definitely did. But I didn’t sully her.”

“You know what he’s saying.” Adriano sounds more tired than annoyed.

“The point is, you have a relationship with her. Which means you’re going to marry her.

That’s not a question. From here on out, you are officially made a Caporegime.

Congratulations. You will walk down the aisle with Charlie Westbrook and bridge our two organizations. That’s an order.”

I consider my Don for a moment. A part of me wants to refuse him. I’m not the marrying type. Who would want me for a husband? All I know is fighting. My body’s full of wounds and aches. I’m no good for anyone.

Just an old sinner hating the world but still desperate for that next violent fix.

But I don’t answer right away.

Because now I’m thinking about Charlie and our night together. How beautiful she looked, down on her knees, and how good it felt pulling her into my arms. I experienced something that night that I haven’t in a very long time.

I was alive. Outside the fighting ring.

Deep between Charlie’s legs, I could breathe again. The storm in me was silent. The deep obsession with violence went quiet.

There was only me and her.

Now they’re offering me the chance to see if that wasn’t just a one-time thing.

Just got to walk down the aisle with the poor girl.

“I can’t do it,” I say, throwing down the drink. It burns as it hits my belly. My knees crack as I get to my feet.

Adriano’s face is set in a cold stare. He doesn’t get mad, not like some other men in his position might. No, Adriano only calculates and then applies the right amount of pressure needed to get his way.

“This is an order from your Don. I assume you don’t need me to make threats. You know how this works.”

“Be smart here,” Harrison adds. “Charlie will make a good wife, and imagine the opportunities you’ll have as a member of my family.” He smiles at me, slimy and smooth. I suspect I won’t enjoy being anywhere near the brood of vicious snakes he calls family.

“I apologize, Don Adriano, but I’m turning down the promotion. I respectfully decline your offer to become a Caporegime.”

That surprises him. Adriano sits back, eyebrows turned low in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“The Capo life isn’t for me.” I turn away from the two powerful men. “But I’ll marry the girl. That might be alright.”

I limp toward the door as Adriano laughs. I figured he’d find that amusing. Harrison seems more confused than anything else, but that’s fine.The old bastard wouldn’t get it anyway.

Adriano knows though. He understands the sort of man I am.

I’d wilt as a Capo. Too much responsibility. That’s not my style.

But marrying the girl?

That might be fun.