Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

Giovanni Luciano entered first. The don of the Italian crime family was accompanied by his youngest son, Marco, and flanked by four men who moved with the deadly grace of trained killers. Though in his late sixties, Giovanni still cut an imposing figure, his silver hair swept back from an austere face that had graced the cover of Time magazine twice.

Behind him came Wei Chen, her designer dress emphasizing a figure that belied her seventy years. The leader of the Red Dragon Triad had taken over her husband’s empire after his death a decade ago and turned it into one of the most powerful criminal organizations in Asia and the United States.

She was escorted by her son James and a couple of bodyguards who looked like they could snap a person in half without breaking a sweat.

“Welcome to Oro Divino .” Vlad put his glass on a side table and strolled across the room, a charming smile stretching his mouth. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

Giovanni grunted a greeting. Wei Chen’s ruby-painted lips curved.

“Always a pleasure, Vlad,” she purred.

Her gaze swept over him appreciatively, lingering on his broad shoulders and his chest.

Vlad’s smile didn’t falter.

It wasn’t the first time Wei Chen had attempted to hit on him. He’d learned early on in his dealings with her that it was all a carefully crafted act, designed to make people underestimate her razor-sharp mind.

“Please.” He indicated the dining table. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

The crime bosses and their sons took seats opposite one another, their retinues standing to attention to the side. Ilya and Milo positioned themselves near the door, hands clasped loosely in front of them.

Cortes strolled to an armchair by the window, seemingly absorbed in his phone. Popo preened his feathers nonchalantly on the Colombian’s shoulder.

Vlad knew better. Both the sorcerer and his familiar would unleash mayhem at a moment’s notice.

James Chen observed Cortes with a pinched expression. “What’s he doing here?”

Marco Luciano was similarly eyeing the Colombian like he was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his designer shoe.

Vlad dimly recalled there was no love lost between the three men.

“Our Bratva appointed him as an external observer.”

Though he kept his tone light, Wei Chen’s and Giovanni’s expressions cooled at his hidden warning.

At least now everyone knows where they stand.

A low rumble had him looking down. Tarang stood stone-still beside him. He was staring at something Vlad couldn’t see, his pupils gleaming with a faint trace of crimson magic.

Vlad’s scalp prickled. He focused on his familiar’s bond and picked up on the unease thrumming through it.

Tarang blinked, sudden confusion flowing across their connection. He unfroze, his tail swaying anxiously.

Vlad scanned the room. He couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary.

Giovanni made an impatient sound.

Vlad masked his disquiet and settled into the chair at the head of the table.

The staff began serving the food.

“Shall we begin?” Vlad said as they finished their entrées. “I believe we’re here to discuss the matter of the Brooklyn docks.”

Giovanni’s weathered face hardened. “Those docks have belonged to my family for three generations.” He stabbed his mullet fillet sautéed in sea snail sauce, his gimlet eyes on Wei Chen.

“Yet your men killed two of my people there last week,” the Triad leader said silkily. She cut delicately into a seared duck breast served with passion fruit, endive, and a parfait of livers.

“They were trespassing on private property,” Giovanni grunted.

“Since when is murder the answer to trespassing?” Wei Chen countered.

Giovanni’s eyes shrank to slits. He pointed his fork at the Triad leader.

“So, you admit they were trespassing?”

Vlad swallowed a sigh and took a sip of his water.

Maybe I should have ordered whiskey.

Tarang issued a berating huff where he’d plopped on the floor next to his chair.

Wei Chen put her cutlery down and dabbed daintily at her mouth with her linen napkin. “That’s not what I said, Gio. And I would appreciate it if your lackey stopped playing with that trigger.” Her dark gaze found Marco.

Giovanni’s son’s hand was on the gun in his shoulder holster.

The Triad bodyguards shifted, their movements so subtle most people would have missed them. James Chen tensed, one hand sliding toward the weapon Vlad knew he carried at his back.

“How about everyone calms down?” Vlad said coldly. “We’re here for a negotiation, not a shoot-out.”

Giovanni cut his eyes to his son. Marco relented and dropped his hand from his gun. The Italian don’s attention returned to his nemesis.

“Your dealers were moving their products through our territory without my family’s permission.” His voice dropped dangerously. “What did you expect would happen?”

“We had an agreement.” Wei Chen’s perfectly manicured nails drummed the tablecloth, her face tight. “Or have you conveniently forgotten the arrangement we came to regarding the movement of certain goods through your routes?”

“That agreement was nullified the moment you started dealing with the Jamaicans,” Giovanni retorted.

Vlad’s pulse quickened. This was the first he was hearing about Caribbean elements getting involved in the New York underworld. Across the room, Cortes had lowered his phone, his expression growing focused.

“The deal my Triad has with certain parties in Kingston is none of your concern, Gio,” Wei Chen said curtly. “Besides, nothing is set in stone yet. We are still investigating our potential business partners.”

Marco leaned forward, his expensive suit pulling tight across his shoulders. “Be that as it may, it becomes our concern when those parties start moving through our territory without paying their dues.”

“You mean the protection money you charge that’s three times what we agreed upon?” James snapped.

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Vlad could practically taste the animosity crackling between the two heirs.

“Gentlemen.” He kept his voice measured and released a faint wave of the incubus charm that had gotten him out of many a tricky situation in the past. “Perhaps we should take a moment to?—”

Something strange brushed against his senses, like oil sliding over water. Vlad stiffened.

The sensation made his skin crawl.

Tarang’s growl vibrated against his leg. The tiger’s alarm flooded their bond as he uncoiled and rose, hackles rising and muscles bunching beneath his gleaming coat.

Cortes straightened across the way. “Do you feel that?”

Popo had stopped preening his feathers and was watching the room with unusual intensity.

Vlad’s mouth went dry. “Yes.”

The sinister magic dancing across his skin reminded him of the corruption that had emanated from the Sorcerer King during their final battle. But it felt worse, somehow.

Giovanni glanced between Vlad and Cortes, decades of survival instinct clearly warning him something was amiss. “Something the matter?”

“I’m not sure.” Vlad forced a smile and pushed away from the table. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Wei Chen’s shrewd gaze narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something.

The lights went out with a suddenness that made her draw a sharp breath.