Page 8 of Thorns of Death

Get yourself together, Isla, I scolded myself mentally.

I startled, jumping out of my skin, when she pulled a photograph out of her bag.

She flipped it over, and my heart stopped.

It was a wedding photo, the surface grainy and creased. And this woman… she was Enrico’s wife.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

THREE

ENRICO

Itapped my fingers impatiently against the mahogany table.

Cazzo, I didn’t want to be here. I’d slept like a baby for the first time in almost three decades and thenthis.

Flicking a glance at Giulio, I gave him a barely noticeable nod, dismissing him. He’d been with our family for almost fifteen years, but I never kept any of my men in the room when discussing business with the other family heads.

Manuel, my uncle, being the only exception.Cazzo, at barely five years older than me, it pained me to call him my uncle. We were practically raised together, more like cousins.

“What is so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, Costello?” My tone was annoyed, but fuck, I left Botticelli’s muse naked and sprawled out in my home because of this “urgent”request to meet.

Costello held a cigar in one hand, his dark hair and eyes holding my annoyance. Contrary to common belief, Costello wasn’t Italian. Lykos Costello was the head of the Greek mob. Ever since his wife passed away, he spent most of his time in southern Greece with his children. His youngest, Aria Costello, had the biggest crush on my youngest son, Amadeo. At thirteen years old, he already believed himself to be a hustler when it came to the ladies. During Luca DiMauro’s wedding to Margaret Callahan, she even went so far as to beat up some boys to defend him. It was something Enzo, my oldest, should have done. Family first. Always.

“Don’t get pissy with me,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t urgent.”

Lykos wasn’t usually the type to stir up drama. He kept to himself and focused on running his empire and raising his children. His sons were as old as mine, but his daughter was young and vulnerable.

“Okay, what’s so urgent? I hope it’s not your children.” Being a single parent, I understood that vulnerability all too well.

“No, no. They’re fine. Back in Greece.”

I nodded, tapping my fingers and thinking again of the ginger-haired woman I left in my bed. I’d kept Isla up into the early morning hours, and I was certain she would be there, probably still asleep, when I got back.

I didn’t dare ask myself why I didn’t kick her out of my bed. I never let women sleep over, yet I didn’t have the heart to wake this one up.

“The Corsican mafia intercepted my shipment from the States.” He hated the French in general, and the Corsican mafia in particular.

“Were you planning on docking it here and taking the land route to Greece?” It seemed odd, but theoretically his shipment shouldn’t have been so close to the shoreline for the Corsicans to intercept.

“When do I ever want to dock it in France?” he grumbled. “The ship had some technical issues and had to make an emergency stop. Just as we were within ten miles from the shoreline, the fuckers snatched the boat.”

Well, that was the Corsican mafia for you. “What do you want me to do? I don’t work with them.”

“But you have docks in France,” he remarked wryly. “I’m going to attack them and take it back. I’ll need a temporary port here in France and one in Italy for ship repairs before it continues its way to Greece.”

“That’s a lot of favors,” I deadpanned.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Damn straight he would.

“What’s on the ship?” It didn’t escape me that he’d failed to mention that. When he remained silent, I narrowed my eyes on him. “It better not be flesh trading.” Although I didn’t think it would be.

His late wife had worked with victims of sex trafficking; she would have murdered him in his sleep if she even suspected he was involved in anything like this while she was still around. Nobody knew how the late Mrs. Costello died because everyone in the underworld knew better than to ask.

“It’s not flesh,” he assured me, then scoffed. “I must say, I find it a bit hypocritical, considering what Romero’s into.”

I shook my head. “He ended that shit.” Only recently, but he didn’t need to know that.