Page 21 of Unrelenting (Ruthless Temptations #1)

NINETEEN

Lorenzo

Outside of Italy, Paris is probably my favorite city. There are incredible parks here as well as fabulous galleries. Then, of course, there’s the amazing food and drink scene. In these beautiful surroundings I can even tolerate French wine.

Paris is one of the places I come when I want to get away from it all, but unfortunately, this trip is all business. Damiano and I traveled to New York for our cousin Olivia’s wedding and then came straight here to meet with other members of the pan-European consortium we’re part of.

The people around this table control most of the criminal activity in Europe and conduct a great deal of legitimate business with each other as well.

The large, intimidating man to my left is Sev Baranov, a Russian mobster who runs a small but powerful Bratva organization affiliated with the Reznovs, now led by Piotr, who sits across the table from us.

Damiano occupies the seat to my right, and next to him is Joe Dalgleish, a British businessman whose political connections help him hide his shadier exploits.

Opposite them are the Lenkov siblings, Daniil and the sinfully sexy Mila. Their brother, like ours, has chosen not to attend the meeting.

At the head of the table is Niamh Donnelly. The Scots-Irish Mafia queen is the one who first suggested we all work together, and she keeps us in line.

Our first order of business tonight was finding someone to rescue a Scottish damsel in distress from the man who’s held her captive since slaughtering her family four years ago.

At first, I thought Niamh wanted me to step up and marry the girl, but it seems my cousin Gio is the preferred suitor.

It makes sense. He’s unattached and close to the girl’s age. Though he’s young and untested, his eagerness to prove himself worthy of the family name will help him succeed in his task.

The second issue we dealt with was much more interesting. An upstart Albanian gang has been hijacking our shipments out of Marseilles and costing us millions in revenue. They’ve made an alliance with the Corsican Union so striking them will probably lead to war.

If that’s the case, so be it. We’re more than ready to spill some blood, especially now our ties with our American cousins have been strengthened through Piotr’s marriage to Olivia.

As Niamh calls the meeting to a close, my stomach rumbles. I haven’t had a chance to eat today but thankfully Sev arranged for us to have dinner here.

We head out into the living room to greet the spouses who’ve come to eat with us and I immediately spot my cousin talking to Evie, the heavily pregnant wife of Daniil Lenkov. It’s their second child, I think.

The rest of us need to get on with the business of procreating if we’re going to have anyone to pass our rapidly growing empire down to.

“Did you forget to put a dress on?” I greet Olivia as I take in the scrap of fabric she’s wearing. It’s high at the neck but barely covers her ass.

She glares at me and fires back. “Don’t you have a pretty restaurant owner to harass?”

That hits harder than it should. It’s been several days since I last saw Lucia and I’d much rather be back in Florence making things right with her than standing here trading barbs with Olivia.

I regret abandoning Lucia at my mother’s house. At the time I was focused on sorting out my family’s issues. I didn’t consider how Lucia would feel about me rushing off like that, leaving her with people she’d only just met.

In hindsight, I realize it was a mistake to take her to the villa. I should have waited for a better time.

Things are not always easy for my mom. Since she sustained a brain injury after a particularly severe beating from my father, she’s struggled with everyday tasks, She’s forgetful and that leads her into tricky situations. She needs someone constantly by her side to make sure she’s safe.

Though my mom was excited to meet Lucia, my visit triggered her anxiety over Gabriele. I suspect she focused on him so she didn’t have to think about the fire she caused by leaving a dish towel too close to the stove.

Thankfully, a member of the security team was there within seconds of the fire starting and put it out before it could cause any damage.

When I left the villa, I went to see Gabriele to ask him to go see her. A visit from him would help put her mind at rest.

Unfortunately, my brother refused to see me. He only spoke to me via intercom when I pulled out my gun and threatened to shoot the guards who wouldn’t let me onto the property. It’s been months since I saw Gabriele in the flesh, and I’m worried about him.

Preoccupied with thoughts of my brother and Lucia, I’m in no mood to deal with Olivia’s bitchiness. I’m about to tell her to go fuck herself when Piotr steps up beside her and slides his arm around her waist.

His gesture is both possessive and protective, but he’s got nothing to fear from any of the men in this room.

Daniil only has eyes for his wife. Damiano and I could never look at Olivia as anything but our mildly irritating cousin and Sev is consumed with thoughts of some unattainable Bratva princess.

Joe doesn’t appear to have the slightest interest in Olivia and the only other man in the room is Niko Morozov, who’s married to Mila Lenkova.

Considering his wife is dry-humping him in the corner, I doubt he’s given Olivia a second glance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.” I turn toward the voice and find Sev’s butler, Jacques, standing in the doorway. He’s a pompous ass. “Please make your way to the dining room and take your allocated seats.”

“Allocated seats?” I mutter under my breath. I doubt that’s Sev’s doing. He lets Jacques guide him when it comes to etiquette and the man has a seriously sharp stick up his ass.

As we all head along the corridor, Piotr drags Olivia in the opposite direction. I suspect he has something to say about her choice of attire.

I follow the others into the dining room where the table has been laid out as if a royal banquet is about to take place.

There are white tapered candles in silver holders and arrangements of white and pink roses set on top of a silk table runner.

Expensive silverware has been laid out with damask napkins for each guest. Gilt-edged menus with our names written in a delicate script at the top mark each place. It’s over the top.

Even if we are all billionaires, the people in this room are also friends. We don’t require this level of formality.

I find my place and take a seat. Picking up the menu, I suppress a groan. Coquille Saint Jacques is the appetizer. Then there’s Confit de Canard for the entrée. I’m not a huge fan of duck. The dessert is crème br?lée with a fig compote. That, I have to admit, does sound good.

Each course is paired with a different wine. I’d hoped the food would be more to my taste. Sev is a hunk of steak and a glass of Scotch kind of guy. He’s not into this pretentious shit, and neither am I.

“This is fancy,” Niamh says as Damiano plays the gentleman and pulls out the seat next to me so she can sit.

My brother takes the chair on her other side.

“It’s ridiculous,” I mutter.

Niamh picks up her napkin and drapes it over her lap. “So, you’re off the market, then?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for a start, you haven’t been eyeing Mila and me like you’re hoping for an orgy.”

I don’t deny there was a time when I would have jumped at the chance to fuck both of these beautiful, dangerous women at the same time.

“Well, she’s married now, and Niko would strangle me with my own intestines if he thought I was imagining his wife in bed.”

“Yes, he would, but I’m still single.”

“Technically, but you have unresolved issues with Tony Morganti, and I’m not getting in the middle of that shit.”

She had a brief relationship with Tony, a distant cousin of my friend Marco, that ended in tears a few months ago.

Niamh scowls. “There’s nothing between me and that asshole anymore.”

“Asshole, huh? What did he do? Make you throw out your collection of dicks?”

“Collection of dicks?” Niamh raises an eyebrow. “You must be thinking of Mila.”

I shake my head. Although there’s a rumor Mila Lenkova cuts the dicks off her enemies and keeps them as trophies, I think if anyone was to do something so freaky, it would be Niamh.

Nobody can be as nice as she appears to be, certainly not in this world. She has to be hiding something dark and depraved beneath her girl next door smile.

“Does she have a collection of dicks?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“So what do you ladies do with them when you’ve cut them off?”

“Nothing, personally, but I assume someone incinerates them for us.” She smiles sweetly at Jacques as he places a plate with a perfectly seared scallop presented in its shell in front of her. He doesn’t return the smile.

“Looks like someone’s immune to your charms,” I murmur.

“And not just him.” Niamh narrows her eyes seductively and puts her hand on my thigh. She leans in close. “I’ll bet if I tried to drag you to the linen closet, you’d turn me down flat.”

I glance at the spaces my cousin and her husband are yet to fill. “I think the linen closet is occupied.”

Niamh backs off, a knowing grin on her face. “But you’d still say no because you’ve got your pretty chef now.”

“How do you know she’s a chef?” I ask as I pick up my fork and stab at the food in front of me. I’m not a fan of seafood in general and scallops in particular.

“Your brother told me.”

I roll my eyes. “Damiano is such a gossip.”

Niamh shakes her head. She picks up her wineglass, wrapping her long, elegant fingers around the stem. “Not Damiano, Gabriele.”

Setting my fork down, I turn to her. “You spoke to Gabriele?”

I’m not sure whether I’m more surprised that she spoke to him or that he knew about Lucia.

Hearing our conversation, Damiano turns to us. “What’s this?”

“Niamh spoke to Gabriele,” I explain.

“When?”

“Earlier today,” Niamh says. “He wants to see me.”

Damiano and I exchange a look of total shock. Our brother has slowly reduced contact with us to the point where it feels as if we’re strangers.

It’s only a couple of days since he denied me access to his home and spoke to me over the intercom as if I was some fucking delivery boy.

Now he wants to see Niamh? They’re friends, sure, but they aren’t close.

“What for?” Damiano asks.

Niamh shrugs. “No idea, but I’m flying to Rome in a couple of days.”

“Will you let us know what he says?” I already know what her answer will be.

She shakes her head, her expression full of regret. “You know I can’t do that, Lorenzo.” Before either Damiano or I can argue, she adds, “But I will let you know if you have any reason for concern.”

It’s as much as we can expect. Niamh prides herself on her discretion. She’s not going to betray our brother’s secrets. I just hope this means Gabriele is ready to engage with the world once more.