Page 23

Chapter 23

DANTE

“Whoa, it’s weird being here when it’s not open.” With regular lights illuminating Wild, no sultry music playing, and not a single horny customer in sight, I almost don’t recognize the place.

During the drive over I couldn’t help wondering if I would feel antsy being here knowing I can’t come back and dance for another couple of weeks still. But I’m not feeling much of anything about it now that we’re here. Do I even want to come back? I definitely don’t want to be some kept man, but if money isn’t a huge issue anymore, maybe I could do something else… something that wouldn’t require me to be constantly pawed at.

I push those thoughts aside for now. I have plenty of time to think about what the next chapter of my life looks like, but first I have to write the ending to this one.

“I’m surprised Enzo didn’t want to meet at one of the offices instead, but maybe he’s already anticipating the need for easy-to-clean floors,” Salvatore says darkly, eyeing the industrial tile floors, designed specifically for easy cleanup of all the spilled drinks… and most likely blood today if things play out the way we’re expecting.

“I call ‘not it’ on mopping duty,” I mutter, and he laughs.

What I’ve come to think of as Lorenzo’s inner circle are already seated around the table when we get there. An unusual tension hangs in the air, making even Alessio sit up straight and keep his mouth shut. Salvatore drags an extra chair over for me and we take our seats between Alessio and Sparrow, directly across the table from Lorenzo, with Elio on his right side and Xaviaro on his left.

“Perfect timing. Sparrow just filled us in on what he found with the bank transfers, so why don’t you go ahead and take it from there.” There are tense lines around Lorenzo’s eyes and an air of authority in his voice that gives me goose bumps. Not the sexy kind of authority, the ‘I’m about to start blowing fucking heads off’ kind.

Salvatore nods at me to give me the floor and rests his hand on the back of my neck. The warm weight of his touch is comforting, keeping my heart from breaking into a gallop and soothing my nerves. Sure, we’re on Lorenzo’s team, but it’s not like that hasn’t turned on me before. But with the soft brush of his thumb against the side of my neck, there’s no doubt in my mind that my husband is with me. No matter what else happens, I’m not standing alone in my corner anymore.

I take a breath and then start from the beginning. We talked about it on the way over, and there is no way for me to connect all the pieces for them without the backstory between me and Don. I keep the details about my cousin sparse this time, delivering the whole explanation with a cold detachment I’ve found comfort in for the last decade.

Lorenzo’s gaze is unwavering. He doesn’t move or flinch, he hardly reacts at all as I tell them all the details from the emails, my suspicion of how Don charmed Cian, not knowing I’d have a Mafia of my own behind me, and the strained interactions between Declan and Cian. But even without a single twitch of acknowledgment, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s listening to every word with rapt attention.

“Great, so we have to call up Declan to tell him we think his brother is a fucking menace who flipped one of our guys and set it up to look like we’re ripping them off. Oh, and by the way, can you step aside and let us pop Cian’s new bestie? Don’t worry, this one’s just personal,” Alessio summarizes with a groan.

“I’m sure I can finesse the news a little better than that,” Lorenzo says blandly.

Elio’s eyebrows go up. “Seriously? You think calling Declan is the way to go?”

“The alternative is to skip right to taking out his brother before he becomes an even bigger problem. Don’t get me wrong, we might end up at that option anyway, but let’s try for a little diplomacy first and see where that gets us.” Lorenzo’s already pulling his phone out and making the call.

I lean closer to Salvatore and lower my voice. “Does he have this other mob boss on speed dial?”

“What, were you expecting he’d attach a formal invitation for a meeting to a severed horse’s head and stick that in his bed?” He smirks, and I shrug.

“Makes more sense than fucking calling him.”

“Declan,” Lorenzo says into the phone, his voice full of that same dark, commanding edge. “There seems to be a problem that we need to discuss immediately. I want you to come to Wild so we can clear it up before anyone gets hurt.”

It’s impossible to hear Declan’s words on the other end of the phone, but the deep murmur of his tone almost sounds… flirtatious? Lorenzo clears his throat and his usually carefully blank expression tightens into a scowl.

“Of course we won’t be alone. This isn’t a game, Fitzpatrick. Be here in an hour or I’ll start considering alternative ways to resolve things myself.”

Again, I can’t hear Declan’s response, but it almost sounds like he meows before they both hang up.

“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” I whisper to Salvatore.

“We’re all wondering, but none of us is brave enough or suicidal enough to ask.” His lips twitch and he drags my chair closer to his, then puts his hand back where it belongs, right on the nape of my neck.

Lorenzo tucks his phone away and starts giving orders. Alessio is sent to wait at the door to escort them in when they arrive, Xaviaro is told to go get Antonio, and Salvatore starts rearranging things to make room for Declan and his men to arrive.

“Did you think being in the Mafia would be a lot more shooting and a lot less negotiating, or was that just me?” I mutter to Sparrow.

He snorts a laugh in agreement.

Right on schedule, an hour later, Alessio leads three men over to join us. I don’t know why I expected them to be dressed in high-end suits the way the Morettis always seem to be, but clearly the Fitzpatricks aren’t as bothered about their wardrobes. The ginger with a cocky smile, crooked nose, and a mass of freckles is wearing a green hoodie with a jean vest over it, a pair of jeans that are molded to his thighs, and boots that clomp with every step he takes through the mostly silent club.

I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or annoyed that neither of the two men with him match the photos I found of Cian. One of them has dark hair, green eyes, and a bored sort of scowl on his face. And the other… shit he’s basically a carbon copy of the first one. So either they’re twins or Declan is going old school Sith style, cloning an army of henchmen instead of bothering to recruit.

“Kitten,” Declan purrs, his eyes focused solely on Lorenzo as if none of the rest of us are even in the room. “And here I was starting to get a complex that I’m always the one calling you.”

Lorenzo’s jaw ticks and he gestures to the chair across from his. The rest of our seats have been removed, leaving us to stand behind Enzo while he’s in full boss mode. Declan pulls out his chair and kicks his feet up onto the table, crossing them at the ankle.

“I don’t know how closely you watch your books, Fitzpatrick, but we’ve found a bit of a discrepancy on our end,” Lorenzo explains, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

Declan frowns, his thick eyebrows pulling together, and cocks his head.

“Come on Kitten, I know you didn’t call me here to accuse me of stealing from you.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Lorenzo says.

SALVATORE

It takes everything in me not to leap across the table, grab the front of Declan’s shirt, and demand to know where the fuck his brother gets off attacking my husband. Normally, I’m totally on board with Lorenzo’s approach to problems, but this is one time I think Dante might be onto something. Shoot first and negotiate later. But it’s not my call, so I stand behind Lorenzo, literally , and let him lay out what we know… or at least the version of it he decided would make this all go as smoothly as possible.

“Sparrow, why don’t you tell Xaviaro to bring Antonio out,” Lorenzo says before turning his attention back to Declan, who’s finally dropped the flirting routine now it’s clear that something serious is going on. “I could bore you with details all day, Fitzpatrick, but here’s the bottom line. Some opportunistic parasites have been whispering in your brother’s ear.”

Declan bristles. “What do you know about my brother?”

“Enough,” Lorenzo says, leveling Declan with a look that deepens the Irish boss’s frown. “And here’s one of those parasites now.”

I look over to see Xaviaro and Sparrow pushing a bound and disheveled Antonio forward. He stumbles as he takes in the scene in front of him—Lorenzo and Declan seated at the table together. Antonio’s eyes widen and he tries to back up, but Xaviaro is right there, shoving him forward one step after another.

Declan looks Antonio up and down with pure boredom, as if Lorenzo is showing off a new piece of furniture instead of a rat. Antonio’s eyes land on Dante beside me, I expect to see pleading, a final, desperate bid for someone here to take mercy on him. But instead they’re filled with disgust and loathing. My husband bristles and I yank him closer to me, instinctively reaching for my pistol.

“Relax, Salvatore,” Lorenzo mutters.

I grind my teeth and clench my hand into a fist to hold myself back from ending Antonio before his next breath.

“Clearly one of yours,” Declan says. “If he’s been conspiring with Cian, how do I know you didn’t put him up to it?”

Lorenzo scoffs and tilts his head towards me. “Go ahead then, Sal, show Declan here how we handle rats.”

“Oh, I’m a fucking rat because I’m sick of seeing this organization run by a bunch of fucking fa—” Xaviaro slams his fist into the side of Antonio’s head before he can finish the insult.

“I fucking hate that word,” Xav grumbles.

Antonio stumbles sideways from the blow, and Sparrow grabs him by the collar to yank him upright again. I reach into my jacket and pull out my pistol, offering it to Dante.

“You want to do the honors?”

He stares at the gun in my hand for several long seconds, chewing on his bottom lip as he considers the offer. I expected him to jump at it, but after a minute, he shakes his head.

“I might be just a stripper whore, but I have standards.” His words are directed right at Antonio, and my blood boils a few degrees hotter. Stripper whore? Is that what he called my angel?

“Would someone fucking shoot him?” Lorenzo manages to sound bored and impatient at the same time.

He doesn’t have to ask twice, I already have my gun cocked. I let go of my Angioletto, Xaviaro and Sparrow both step aside, and I smirk as I point my pistol at Antonio.

“Better a faggot than a lowlife rat like you. A fanabla ,” I growl, and squeeze the trigger.

Antonio jerks like he’s going to make a run for it, but he’s not quick enough. The gunshot echoes through the empty club and blood explodes from his head, painting the floor behind him with a violent spray before he collapses, motionless.

Xav stands over him, looking down with a grunt, trying to keep the crimson river of sticky blood from touching his shoes. “I should really start laying down a drop cloth. This shit would be so much easier.”

“I hope that clears things up,” Lorenzo says, drawing Declan’s attention back to himself.

The Irish boss nods.

“My brother… he’s not going to be a problem. He can get taken in by the wrong people, but now that I know, I’ll deal with him myself.”

I grind my teeth again at the idea of Cian getting away with what he did to Dante. My Angioletto tenses and vibrates against me, holding himself back just as hard as I am. Declan isn’t going to hand his own brother over, I don’t think any of us expected him to. But this gives Lorenzo a card to play, and he takes it.

“On one condition,” Lorenzo says. “There’s one more dangerous little pest in your brother’s ear, and you’re going to let us deal with him ourselves.”

Declan scratches his stubbled chin, holding Lorenzo’s gaze for a long, silent moment.

“His new prison buddy? Don?” Declan guesses.

Dante trembles against me so hard, I have to wrap both arms around him to keep him upright.

“That’s the one,” Lorenzo says. “His release date is in two days. Give us your word you won’t alert him or Cian that we’re onto him, and stay out of the way so we can deal with him.”

Declan grunts and then snaps his fingers. His bodyguard on his right pulls a pen out of his pocket and hands it to the boss. Declan reaches across the table to pluck a napkin from the small stack next to the drink menus, and jots something down.

“One better,” he says, sliding the napkin across the table to Lorenzo. “That’s the apartment he’ll be staying at. Go camp out there for two days for all I care, just get this asshole out of the way so I can get Cian back on track and focused on the right priorities.”

Declan stands up, putting both hands on the table and leaning over a few inches towards Lorenzo. A slow grin spreads over his lips and as soon as Lorenzo looks up at him, he winks.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Kitten.”

He turns and strides out with his henchmen a step behind him.

“Cian’s the one who attacked Dante. He fucking branded his arm and tore his goddamn shoulder out of its socket. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just let that go,” I growl through clenched teeth.

“Sometimes life is a compromise. We can’t get everything we want.” Lorenzo folds the napkin and holds it out to me between two fingers. His gaze flickers in the direction Declan disappeared in even though he’s long gone, then back to me. He flattens his mouth into a line. “And something tells me you’ll get your chance at Cian sooner or later. Diplomacy can only stop a war for so long, especially when there are power hungry traitors lurking around.”

I take the napkin and stuff it into my pocket.

“Yeah, well, when the time comes, I call dibs on being the one to put a bullet between that fucker’s eyes.”

“You call… shotgun?” Sparrow chortles.

“I think that would be calling pistol,” Alessio deadpans.

Lorenzo sighs. “What do I have to call to get a fucking drink?”

“I can get you one,” Dante offers, slipping out from under my arm. He stops next to the table, chewing his lip again and shifting on his feet. “And… um… thanks, Lorenzo. For believing me and for getting Don for us.”

Enzo clears his throat again and fiddles with his tie. “Yes, well, you’re a Moretti now, and we look out for our own.”

Dante meets my eye again and a smile twitches on his lips.

“Always,” he finishes, just like I did the other night.

“Always.”