Page 9 of Thorns of Death
He furrowed his brows, then a thought must have occurred to him. “Well, shit. I didn’t think many people could still surprise me.” It turned out, he could. Truthfully, Romero had surprised me too. Only weeks ago, he’d come to me with the request to arrange a marriage between his youngest and Dante Leone. When I told him my condition—to end flesh trading—he admitted to what he’d been doing for the past few years. He feigned his involvement so he could easily eliminate those who actually were. The man was fucking brilliant, although it made me wonder what prompted the change of heart. “I didn’t think he had it in him.”
I shrugged, not echoing the sentiment. “Okay, so what’s on the ship?”
“Drugs and guns.”
“Twenty percent fee,” I told him. “Ten upfront and ten when you get your shipment back.”
He let out an incredulous laugh. “Damn Italians.”
“Damn Greeks.”
“Okay, deal.”
We shook on it. “Is Aria still infatuated with Amadeo?” I mused, teasingly.
He rolled his eyes. “You better keep your sons away from my daughter. One she wants to kill. One she wants to marry. Neither is acceptable.”
I chuckled. “Best keep her locked up in Greece.” Thank fuck I didn’t have daughters to worry about.
It was another hour before I was home and making my way up the stairs, tugging on my tie and picturing how I’d take Botticelli’s goddess—in my bed, on her hands and knees. I’d listen to her moan and scream my—
I came to a sudden stop. The bed was made, the room freshened up, and the scent of the woman I’d spent hours fucking was nowhere to be found.
“Manuel,” I bellowed, agitated that I wasn’t already climbing into my bed and finding heaven between the thighs of the ginger-haired goddess.
My right-hand man—and coincidentally my uncle—sauntered into the room like he didn’t have a care in the world. And he probably didn't, which only increased my frustration more.
“Where is the woman?”
His brows furrowed. “What woman?”
“The one who was sleeping here,” I gritted, clenching my teeth.
His eyebrow shot up. “You never let them spend the night.”
My jaw clenched so hard, I could hear my teeth grinding. Why did he have to point out the obvious? “I let this one spend the night,” I snapped. “Where the fuck is she?”
“How in the fuck should I know,nipote?” He rolled his eyes. “I just got in ten minutes ago.”
My brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”
He shrugged. “That bitch Donatella showed up. I had to take her back to the nuthouse.”
“Donatella was here?” My voice was eerily calm, but underneath that calmness, my fury thundered. He nodded his confirmation. “Did she come before or after the woman left?”
“Must have been after,” he muttered, but it was clear by his expression that he didn’t know. “I didn’t see a woman here. If that psycho bitch saw her, she’d be dead.”
Suspicion crawled up my spine, but I had bigger problems to deal with than a Renaissance goddess.
Donatella! Damn her, because her shit was the last thing I needed right now.
FOUR
ISLA
Walk of shame.
I experienced it for the first time in my life, and even the beautiful morning could do nothing to ease the sting of my sins. I had broken my rule: Never sleep with a man promised to another. I should have asked the question outright. I should have been more thorough.
