Page 21 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
JOE
Man,wealthy people are a trip and a half. Just yesterday, this guy was standing up on stage, going on about how he was the big alpha wolf. Nothing but smoke and mirrors. He’s a little piglet like the rest of us.
I feel sorry for the guy though. Here he is, CEO of a huge corporation, being quietly fileted by his father in front of his own staff. Meanwhile, I don’t think the man gives a shit that I just blew up my entire life to save his son from a terrible death. I don’t know why it surprises and annoys me, but it does.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. My uncle.
Uncle: What the fuck were you thinking helping him escape?
Joe: Sally was going to put Wolfe’s brains all over the inside of his warehouse. That would have brought us all down.
Uncle: Ah, Jesus. The only thing faster than that asshole’s mouth is his trigger finger, and his brain is a distant third.
Joe: Gotta love a no-fucking-win situation.
Uncle: Do what you gotta do. Keep your nose clean and stay safe.
Joe: Thanks, Zio.
The Portellis aren’t exactly what you’d call emotionally available. Stay safe is as close to I love you as any of us gets. It sets a cold knot in my stomach.
Wolfe Sr. clears his throat. “I’m sorry. Are we interrupting your social media scrolling?”
Oh, hell no.
I look up from my phone and set him with a glare. To his credit, he reads it quickly and his chin shifts back.
Curbing the Brooklyn, I answer through clenched teeth. “Saving your son’s life put me in a bad spot with my family. I’m just trying to see how dead they want me. That okay with you?”
“You would’ve saved yourself the trouble if you’d known your place yesterday.”
There’s a flinty, cool edge to everything that comes out of this motherfucker’s mouth. Like he’s never once been wrong in his entire life. I take a step forward, and so does Wolfe Jr.’s head of security. I don’t have any beef with this Edgerton guy, so I hold up my hands.
“You could be planning his funeral,” I say, pointing to Wolfe Jr. “All I’m asking is that you not be a dickhead to me. I understand it’s your default setting as a rich man. Respect. But not today and not at me, not ever. Don’t do it again. Please don’t make me show you what happens when you do.”
I promise. I’m usually a kitten. But something about this arrogant prick brings out the mob in me.
Wolfe Sr. glares at his son before adjusting his shoulders. “You received the board’s communication about the next steps. Do you have any questions?”
Wolfe Jr. shakes his head, looking down. It’s a damn shame because the man on the stage, prowling, chest puffed out, was a sight to behold, even if I hated it. This cowed version of him is sad.
Not that I care about his emotional state right now.
Wolfe Sr. heads for the elevator without telling his son goodbye or even checking to make sure he’s okay. He’s followed by two of the security guards and the rest disappear. Within seconds, it’s just me, Wolfe Jr., and Edgerton, who sets off on a perimeter walk.
Still looking defeated, Wolfe invites me into the rest of his home. If the towering entrance is a museum, his actual living space is surprisingly warm. I expected sectioned-off living areas, uncomfortable seating arrangements, German abstract art, and cold marble flooring.
I’m right about the marble flooring but surprised by the open floor plan, the greenery throughout the space, and the expensively plush Persian rugs that artfully define the space. The couches, a beautiful buttery-warm leather, look like you could get lost in them, and the fireplace, which takes up nearly the entire inside wall, is lit and crackling.
There are several smaller seating areas throughout the space, some perfect for reading, some perfect for…I don’t know, doing business. All overlook the magnificent skyline, enhanced by the sweeping wall of windows.
I look outside and laugh. “Guess someone’s swimming in a rooftop pool after all.”
The weather’s been chilly, but the enormous balcony is lush with greenery and cozy gathering spaces set around a turquoise pool with a simple, elegant water feature.
Rolling his eyes, Wolfe answers, “As with the office, you can use any of the amenities here. I’m hardly here to enjoy it.”
My grin broadens. “Like I said, you do know how to outfit a pretty cage.”
