Page 5 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

I ducked under the small awning that framed the door.

Above my head, a cloud of insects buzzed around the light fixture.

Swarming bugs followed me into the building.

I swatted at a bloodsucker—disgusting little pests.

At least it was mostly dark inside. The thunder of balls rolling down lanes preceded the crash of pins clattering into the automated machine that captured them for a reset.

No employees were back here monitoring the progress.

Under a single light bulb, my brother perched on an old table, while another figure glowered in the shadows.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I murmured with a nod.

“You’re late.”

I pinned the Fed with a dark look. “Traffic was a bitch.”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” Sandro waved his hand.

“And we have seven minutes before we need to vacate the premises. The owner might be my buddy, but he’s not fond of me conducting business when it’s league night.” Mier shifted. “You’re being set up.”

“No shit, genius,” I muttered. The situation stank of something fishy—and it wasn’t the bowling alley’s stench, although that was ripe back here.

The IRS was hot on my main operating corporation, and they were digging into that holding company—plus a few others under the same umbrella—and it was just a matter of time before they requested documents for the trust that ran the whole legal empire.

“They have no good reason to come at me unless someone was behind it. So…cop, did you find out who it is?” Or are we wasting our time in this disgusting hellhole?

“I did.” Mier crossed his arms. “And if it was up to me, I might just sit back and watch the cards fall.”

The don shifted. “Tom.”

The special agent snorted. “But I like your brother. So for his sake, I’ll ask you this: Do you know Callahan Voss?”

My brows knit. “The state senatorial candidate?”

“He put the taxmen on your scent,” Mier revealed. “I’m not sure why he knew to come after you in the first place, but it’s done. He’s pushing them.”

My brother rubbed his hand against his jaw. “That’s helpful. Thank you, my friend.”

“Hold up.” I lifted my hand to pause the goodbyes. “How do you know it’s him?”

“Are you questioning me?” the Fed shot back hotly.

“No, just trying to understand.” My smile was anything but friendly.

There was a tick of silence before another lane of pins toppled with a deafening crash.

“Voss came into the White Collar Division. He requested the help of the head of that division, gave him a handful of businesses to watch. It’s a joint effort between our guys and the IRS.”

“Which other businesses?” Sandro interjected.

Miers rattled off the names. None of them stuck out. They were straight-laced corporations as far as I knew. We were the only ones with connections to organized crime.

The constant roll and crash, the whir and grind of the machines, was giving me a headache. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see a reason for the politician to come after Baldwin Acquisitions. I rubbed my skull as if it could stave off the ache behind my eyes.

“They are all extremely wealthy companies,” the don mused. Sandro slid a look to me. “You rub elbows with them, yes?”

Unfortunately. “Yes.”

“See what you can find,” my brother instructed. To the Fed he added, “Thank you again for your help, Mier.”

The Fed gave the don a clipped nod. “It’s time to leave.”

We dispersed, and the night air relieved the ache in my lungs from oil and dirty shoes. My head throbbed, however, as I moved to my car. I needed a bit of peace and quiet to process the turn of events. But it didn’t seem I would have that relief. Sandro slid into the front seat beside me.

I shot my brother a curious look. We didn’t spend much time in one another’s company for good reason.

“Drive around the block,” the don commanded.

Pushing the ignition, I let the sports car roar out of the alley.

“I have a contact on the inside of Voss’s campaign,” Sandro commented as if spying on a politician was a completely normal occurrence. “But I need to know, brother to brother, is there any reason the politician would put you on the list of businesses to come after?”

There it was. The suspicion that I’d somehow misstepped and brought this on myself.

I cranked the wheel hard and sped down the street. “No.”

“You haven’t done anything to go on his radar?” the don insisted.

“Fuck! No, Alessandro, I haven’t even met the man in person.”

My brother was quiet for the next block. When I looped the vehicle around to the same stretch that the bowling joint was on, he turned. “This isn’t good, Leonardo.”

“It’s not,” I agreed.

“Word’s going to get out, and people will wonder why the IRS is looking into you. Don’t give them a reason to suspect anything. You need to keep your head down, your nose clean.” The instructions were laced with a heavy implication.

I wanted to smack him. Grab his thick throat and shove him against the window. What the hell did he think, accusing me? As though I messed up!

I was out there alone, every damn day, running our business with no help from him. And now he felt the need, after one measly threat, to micromanage my actions?

“Got it,” I ground out. Those words cost me, pulled straight from the recesses of my mind.

Because at the end of the day, my brother was the boss.

“And I want you to start dating someone,” he added as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

I shot into an empty parking spot on the side of the road and braked hard. My hands shook too badly to drive. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Make it serious.” Sandro stared straight ahead. “Create a sensation so wagging tongues focus on that instead of the IRS poking about your offices.”

A muscle jumped in my jaw. “Out of the question.”

“I’m not asking you to get married…yet.”

I was wrong. The silence pulsed louder than the thunder and grind of the bowling alley. Air filled my lungs with little to no relief.

The don couldn’t just order me to marry. I wasn’t in the underworld circles!

Except…he could. The elites in society arranged marriages with the same gusto as the crime families did.

I floored the gas, shooting the car into traffic. A horn blared, but I wove around the oncoming vehicle with plenty of room.

“A wedding to a socialite would draw all the attention from the tabloids. Put the spotlight on something else.” Sandro tapped his fingers against his thigh. “You’re not getting any younger. I’ve been thinking it’s time for you to settle down.”

That second piece was pure bullshit. It made him seem like the caring big brother that he never was. Sandro didn’t care about my personal life so long as it didn’t affect business.

“Not happening.”

“Why?” the don demanded.

The car lurched back down the side street behind the bowling alley, pulling next to the SUV, where Dante loitered. The enforcer carved a piece of fruit like it was flesh.

“I’m not bringing a civilian into this mess, just so I have to lie at home,” I snapped before thinking better of it. “I live a lie in public; I won’t do that in my own home.”

My brother’s voice lowered an octave, softened a fraction. “I’m sorry I’ve asked the impossible of you. But one of us had to turn legit.”

It wasn’t impossible. Not the work. But the distance from the famiglia, the separation from my siblings, the constant web of lies I lived each and every day, it was…hard.

I can’t do that at home.

When I returned each night to the tower I rented, high above the city, I left the part I played at the door. There, safely in my empty rooms, I could be Leonardo Mancini, and even though that role was the banished member of the pack, it was still me.

If someone else lived there, I would have to be Leonard Baldwin 24/7. That part of me would be well and truly suffocated.

Just the thought made my chest constrict tightly.

But if it was actually necessary…. Could I?

Maybe I was being pissy. I mean, how hard would it be to add another layer of deception to my life?

Watching the elites of society go about their lives, it didn’t seem like they were the models of communication and fidelity.

They might shine as couples, each decorating the other in public, but behind closed doors?

Did they really have one another’s backs?

“I’ll think about it,” I said carefully.

“There are plenty of desirable candidates.” And now the don was playing matchmaker.

I would rather die than be told who to be intimate with.

A pair of blue eyes flashed in my mind. The color of the summer sky. I turned from the window, not wanting the visceral reminder.

“This business with the taxmen. How serious is it?” Sandro pressed.

“I’m handling it.” And then, because I was petty, I flipped the tables on the don. “But we should look over your books, just to try and catch any red flags.”

Instead of being upset that I questioned him, Sandro murmured in agreement. His phone beeped, and he took it out. From the smile that twitched on his lips, I knew without him saying who’d sent it.

The bastard was happy in the love department.

“What’s your bonny bride up to tonight?” I sighed.

“Playing fetch,” he muttered, but he couldn’t hide the smile from his words. “The damn dog brings the ball to her.”

“But not you?” I guessed.

The don grunted. “He’s partial like that.”

It was easy to believe. People, animals—hell, the devil himself probably would jump to Penelope’s command.

My heart clenched. I wanted that. If I was going to go through with his crazy plan, I wanted that. Someone who would make me smile. If I sacrificed Leonardo on the altar of business, it wasn’t much to ask for someone who made me smile.

“I’ll think about what you said,” I repeated.

“That’s all I ask.” With that, my brother left.