Page 18 of No Promises
A gorgeous man, whose magnificent cock I’m dying to ride.Noosh thought about saying it aloud, grinning to herself, then merely laughed. “Just want to get my lifeback.”
“Good for you,Spud.”
Noosh burst out laughing.“Spud?”
“I’m trying out an English nickname on you.Spud. Such a satisfying word tosay.”
“You nutter,” Noosh said in her best London accent, laughing. “Listen, when you’re not my doctor anymore, let’s go out for drinks. I oweyou.”
Beth laughed. “It’s my job, but yeah, I’d like that. You have my cell phonenumber.”
He watchedher get into the cab from the black-out sedan he had rented. It was becoming more and more difficult to go on these excursions without telling anyone. A lot of burner phones and sneaking around, but the Secret Service were antsy now that he was officially the nominee. Destry’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his anger a slow-burning thing. He had seen the Mercedes pull up a couple of hours earlier, seen her kiss, of all people, Christofalo Montecito. That bastard had his hands on Destry’s property. He and Christo had history – yes, it had been a long time ago, but still. Christo had come out on top then, and now he was fuckingAnoushka.
No. This was a good thing, he thought to himself. Let them have their moment, let them fall in love. Because at the end of it all, Destry would have a double victory when Christo mourned the death of his Anoushka. Yes, that wasit.
But Destry wasn’t satisfied with just that. He wanted Noosh to be scared, to know he was watching. He wanted to testher.
And he knew exactly how to doit.
ChapterNine
Fogliano Montecito listenedto the radio interview with his only son with a neutral expression. He had to admit; Christo came across very well. He even managed to answer the difficult questions about Fogliano’s business without disrespecting his father, which Fogliano foundastonishing.
Andmoving.Ever since that night at the mansion when he’d beaten his son, humiliated him in front of his friends, his family, Fogliano hadn’t been able to sleep. What had Christo done to deserve it?Nothing. But Fogliano, anticipating the sneers of the other heads of the families, had been thinking only of himself. And what was worse, he had known Christo’s defection had beencoming.
Defection.Fogliano shook his head, rebuking himself. Going off to make beautiful, bespoke furniture was hardlydefecting. He also had to admit he admired Christo for wanting to break free – he knew his son had serious moral doubts about some of Fogliano’spractices.
Fogliano had himself been born into this life. His father, Fausto, an immigrant from Sicily, had come to New York seventy years ago, already a consigliere to Maximo Gaboni. When Max, childless, had anointed Fausto heir, he had taken over the running of thefamily.
Fogliano had been his father’s trusted advisor, and he had hoped Christo would be his. And for years his son had been there to advise – on legal matters. Christo was very careful never to get involved with the seedier, more violent side of the business, and now that Fogliano looked back, he could see that from a young age his son was determined to tread a differentpath.
But Fogliano was a proud man, and that night, a drunk one too. He had showboated and lost his son in the process.God damnit.
He called in his second, a serious young man called Lucio, and asked him to call Christo. “Tell him I’d like tomeet.”
Ten minutes later, Lucio got back to him. “He respectfully declines, DonMontecito.”
Fogliano sighed, but he wasn’t surprised. “Then we’ll have to do this from left of field. Have someone watch him – from a distance, don’t intrude. I want to know his daily routine, who his friends are, if he’s screwinganyone.”
“Yes,sir.”
Fogliano sat back. If his son wouldn’t bend for him, then he would have to be the one to do it. By finding out as much as he could about how his son lived now, he would find a way in, something to bond over. He wasn’t yet ready to give up on Christo – his only remaining blood family. Because despite everything, he loved hisson.
Noosh madea face when she walked into the meeting room to find them all watching a press conference Destry was holding. She dumped her bag on the table and nodded to Ally, who smiled and turned back to thetelevision.
Even the sound of Destry’s voice made Noosh’s teeth grind, but she studied his image on the flat screen television.How could I ever have found you attractive?she thought, then sighed. She’dneverfound him attractive – she’d just gotten swept along by his love-bombing of her. She’d had no agency whatsoever in that relationship. A flashback of her shooting blasted into her mind, and she winced, her stomach twisting at the memory. She knew it had been him, knew he hadn’t sent a hitman, that he had wanted to do it himself. She remembered the pain of that first bullet slamming into her stomach, then the cold muzzle pressed against her belly and the fire that exploded in her as he shot her again so coldly. Noosh feltsick.
“You okay?” Liam nudged her, but she nodded, looking back at the television screen. Destry was playing the role of the benevolent nominee, his face set in a serious but caringexpression.
“My hope is this – that this initiative will once and for all open up people’s hearts and minds to this spiralingsituation.”
Vomit.Noosh leaned over to Liam. “What’s he talkingabout?”
“A new campaign to stop violence against women. He’s specifically talking about gun crime againstwomen.”
Noosh stared at Liam as if he were mad. “Are you kiddingme?”
“Shhh.”
