Page 62 of Giovanni the Savage

“You have a guest, sir,” Elvira says after I ask her to come in.

I furrow my brows and do a mental check of my calendar. “My last meeting for the day ended thirty minutes ago. I don’t have any other appointments.”

“The guest isn’t on appointment, sir,” she mutters.

I sigh. “Elvira, how many times have I said that I don’t have meetings except by appointments?”

This may just be what I need to fire her. She must sense this coming because she starts raining a string of apologies.

“He just said you’d want to see him, and he doesn’t need an appointment.”

“Who could that be?” I mutter, tapping my pen on my lips.

Nobody I know would do that, and my men are still busy trying to figure out who is behind my warehouse raid, so it can’t be them.

“Did you at least get a name?” I give her a dumb look.

She looks down and shakes her head.

“Send him in.”

My curiosity always gets the best of me. For all I know, it could be a tip from the raid or some information about my father’s death. I’m keeping an open mind about it.

A minute after Elvira walks out, my door swings open. I don’t look up till I hear the voice.

“Now there’s my little brother!” the loud voice booms, causing me to pause in shock.

There’s only one person who would call me that, and he’s in jail … unless.

I glance up to see my half-brother, Rocco, staring at me with a taunting smile. He looks different than he did when he went in four years ago. There’s a nasty gash down the side of his face, and his lips are chapped.

“Rocco,” I call, rising. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckles and moves closer. “Is that how you welcome your brother? The one you haven’t seen in years?”

“Half-brother,” I correct.

He shrugs off his jacket. “Same thing.”

He makes himself comfortable on the chair in front of my desk.

Anger is boiling in my veins, and I’m breathing heavily while waiting for him to say something.

“C’mon, brother, at least a hug would be nice.”

He spreads his hands apart.

“Fuck you.”

Laughter erupts from his throat as he tilts his neck and laughs for seconds.

“That was the last thing you said to me before you let them take me,” he remarks.

“Let them take you? You sound like you weren’t guilty.”

“You seem to forget, we’re all guilty in this world of crime.”

I curl my fist and bang the table harshly. “Don’t you dare,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

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