Page 13 of Romeo

ROMEO

“Brent Carmichael was voted in as the replacement for Martin,” Dante informs me as he paces my office.

Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest as I wait for him to continue. My second in command is nothing if not detail-oriented. It’s almost pathological at this point, and it’d be annoying as hell if it didn’t make him so damn good at his job.

Sure enough, Dante rattles off Mr. Carmichael’s resume, the names of his family members, which grade school he attended, and every known address he’s had in the last twenty years. It’s all good information, and as I look around the room at my most trusted men, I know they are listening and storing it away for later.

Good thing, too, since I haven’t been able to concentrate since Thalia ran away from me yesterday afternoon.

What the hell was I thinking, cornering her like that? Touching her like that? Fuck, tasting her sugary-sweet skin and feeling her pulse beneath my lips as I pressed them to her sensitive flesh…

“But we all know Martin’s death isn’t the real issue here,” Dante continues.

His eyes dart to mine, silently asking permission to brief everyone on the latest update. I give him a subtle nod and pretend to be focused while he tells the men what they’re up against.

“Colombos again?” Armando grunts. The massive man leans forward from his sitting position on the couch in my office, resting his elbows on his knees. “I knew I shouldn’t have given that last fucker a warning. Shoulda ended his pathetic life then and there.”

Dante stops his fidgeting and glares at Armando. The two of them but heads all the time, but I need both men in my inner circle. Dante is calculating and methodical, while Armando would rather bash in faces first and ask questions later. Left in Dante’s hands, nothing would get done, and if the decisions were solely based on Armando’s wishes, we’d all be dead in a bloody war by this time next week.

It’s all about balancing power and delegating tasks to the right person.

“Believe it or not, the answer to everything isn’tpunch it until it stops talking,” Dante snaps.

“We could try it on you first and see if we get the desired results,” Armando fires back. He’s mostly joking to get a rise from the admittedly up-tight Dante, but I have neither the time nor patience for their squabbling today.

I clear my throat, and both men fall silent as their eyes meet mine. “We know the Colombos were trying to get Martin to go into business with them instead of us. He fucked up and got himself and his accomplice killed. Brent is a wildcard, but the Di Salvo captain of that area, Valentino, is working on a deal with him. The bigger problem is the motherfucking Colombos thinking they can waltz onto our territory and take over our contracts.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Sorry, Boss.”

I grunt, then nod at Dante to keep going. He knows I’m distracted and have other things on my mind, but like the good second-in-command he is, he doesn’t question me. At least not in front of the other men.

Ten minutes later, however, the room is empty, aside from Dante and me.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it?” he says as soon as we’re alone.

I glare at him but don’t deny the accusation. “She’s a loose end,” I tell him yet again. The words taste bitter on my lips, and my stomach twists into a knot when I think about Thalia’s face when I said the same thing yesterday.

“Yeah, and I believe you as much now as I did when you first said it,” Dante counters. “Come on, Romeo. What’s really going on?”

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face. Dante is a good man, the most loyal I’ve ever met. Still, can I trust him with these insane thoughts plaguing me? I don’t know how to feel, let alone how to articulate the spell Thalia has cast over me.

“She’s under my protection,” I hedge, buying time to find the right words.

Dante narrows his eyes, but thankfully his concentration is broken when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, frowning when he looks at the screen.

“Your father?” I venture, noting the irritation and heaviness in his gaze. Dante is an extremely private man—we all are in this business—and I don’t know much about his family besides his father being unwell and has been for some time.

Dante grunts, typing away furiously on his phone. “The new nurse,” he mutters. “She has some frou-frou ideas about meditation and yoga to help my father manage his pain.”

“Interesting,” I offer, glad to have the spotlight off me.

“No, it isn’t,” Dante clips out. “I’m not paying her to sit cross-legged and chant. I’m paying her so I don’t have to deal with my old man.”

I nod, though my second-in-command doesn’t seem to notice. He groans and shakes his head when his phone buzzes with a returning text. Dante turns to leave my office, and I’m almost in the clear when he looks at me over his shoulder, his dark eyes meeting mine.

“I’m not sure what kind of infatuation you have with that woman, but it’s my duty to remind you what this life is really like and what it would be like for any…romanticpartners.” He stumbles over the last few words, his distaste for relationships evident in his tone. “There’s a reason we’re both single.”

---