Page 28 of Violent Delights

Footsteps—heavy, deliberate. Not the Boss. So, it must be one of the guards. I know Ignacio has a limp, and from the movement, it’s definitely someone who doesn’t have some disability.

I don’t turn around until he speaks.

“You always sit in the dark like this?” a deep Italian accent rich with the pronunciation I’ve come to know asks.

I glance over my shoulder, keeping my expression calm and as relaxed as I can. Marco. Broad shoulders, dark hair shaved close to his head, dark eyes that are wary. He should be. I’ve noticed he’s always chewing a toothpick like it gives him a dangerous edge. He’s one of the oldest guys in the crew—respected, but not exactly warm.

“Light bothers my eyes,” I say nonchalantly, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Too much shine in this place.” I wave my hand around at the opulent, yet masculine furnishings.

He grunts and steps farther into the room, boots echoing off the marble. “Boss says you’re new. New York, right?”

“Mm.” I nod once, not offering more.

He chuckles then, a rumbling sound. “You don’t talk much,soldato.”

“Don’t get paid to talk.” I shrug as I turn toward him and face the man who’s making an effort to get to know me. Most of the others have seen me in passing, said their hellos, but nothing more.

My reply earns me a small smirk. He walks over to the cabinet where there are bottles upon bottles of expensive liquor, and pours himself something.

He doesn’t ask if I want one.

He already knows I won’t.

“Funny thing,” he says casually, turning his glass in his hand, tilting the alcohol until it causes the glass to stain, the liquor running down the inside of the tumbler. “Boss doesn’t usually bring inestraneifor jobs like this.” He uses the wordoutsiders, and I know the men must be suspicious of me. But I’m lucky enough to have been raised in this world, so I know what they want to hear.

I keep my expression blank but shrug my shoulders as if I’m not sure how I got the job at all. “Guess I got lucky.”

He lifts his gaze from the drink and stares at me from over the rim of his glass. “Luck’s a funny thing too. Especially around here.La fortuna on è qualcosa in cui crediamo.”He tells me that luck isn’t something they believe in here, and I wonder if it’s within the soldiers of the organization, or if he means in the familia.

I lean back into the couch, stretching out just enough to look relaxed. But every muscle is ready. If he pushes, I’ll need to think faster than I’ve ever lied before.

“I was working security at a nightclub in New York for one of the organizations that run drugs and weapons into the States. Private party. Some idiot came in throwing around the Boss’s name like it was currency he had to barter with. I stepped in and made sure there wasn’t a mouth uttering the same story. Turns out the idiot was actually the nephew of someone important.” I meet his stare, and I don’t blink when I continue, “Boss saw the footage. Said I handled it—clean with no complications. Next thing I know, I’m here.”

It’s not true.

Not even close. But it’s the kind of story that sounds true—messy, quiet, small-time.

Marco watches me for a second too long. Then nods slowly. “Sì, colpo di fortuna.” He finally agrees it was a lucky break, and I can breathe a sigh of relief… for now.

I shrug a shoulder and mumble, “Like I said.”

He sips his drink again, his gaze still sharp even behind the casual posture. “You like it here?”

I nod. “Pays better than bouncing drunks.”

“And the girl?” His voice turns darker as if he’s about to test me. Thankfully, I’ve grown up in a house of men just like him. I know how to read them, and I know how to pick out what they’retrying to gauge with their questions. He’s talking about Lia, and I need to play it cool.

My stomach tightens, but I don’t blink. “What girl?”

He smirks. He is testing me. “Boss’s fiancée.”

And there it is, the reason he’s in here talking to me. I’m pretty sure the rest of the men have sent him to do the dirty work. Perhaps he lost the bet and now he’s the one in here asking the questions.

I force a small laugh—dry and amused. “There’s nothing about her. I’m here to do a job. Nothing distracts me from keeping my ward’s safe. Professional. I think with my brain, not my dick.”

Okay, that may be the biggest lie I’ve told because when it comes to Lia, I think with every inch of my body. Including my heart.

Marco chuckles while shaking his head as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard. The toothpick twitches between his lips. “Uomo intelligente.”Smart man.

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