Luca
“How can I use the brat as bait to get to Mario?” I hiss, feeling a bitter taste rising in my throat when the words come out.
Seb makes a noncommittal sound as the car rolls down the street. He appeared outside the warehouse just as I finished there and told me he’d drive me home.
“How did that happen?” He gestures at the bloody pocket square wrapped around my hand.
I shrug. I got distracted, that’s how it happened. I was thinking about him, Enzino, and the way he pleaded with me when I pinned him against the wall. Fuck!
Seb passes me a single wet tissue. I yank it off his fingers, sending him a questioning look.
“For your necktie.”
I look down at the white fabric soaked in red blood—not my blood—the shirt surely has splatters as well, but it’s not visible on the dark fabric. “And you think this will help clean it?”
“No. Use it to cover it,” he explains.
Right, stains are unacceptable to him, among other things. I let go of the tissue and instead loosen the tie before pulling it off. I don’t know why I let Enzino choose it for me. I knew where I was going, and white is the worst color to wear for a bloody interrogation.
“Are Mario and Arturo really that close?”
Fuck if I know. “Mario is the one messaging him about once a month, and the brat answers with monosyllabic replies.”
“My informants all said the brothers are quite…attached.”
The idea of them spending time together turns me livid.
“He told me he hates Mario,” I say out loud, finding the urban landscape very entertaining at the moment.
“And do you think he was sincere?”
I crack my neck before answering, “He’s an Enzino.”
“Ah,” is his sole reply. What the hell does that mean? I have no idea.
I order Gianni, Seb’s driver, to turn left to avoid the evening traffic on Eighth Avenue.
“I thought about it, and the only way to make Mario Enzino come out is by letting Arturo go,” Seb suddenly states.
My whole being rejects the idea so strongly that I have to grit my teeth not to voice it. But still some comes out. “Wouldn’t that be damaging for us?”
Seb’s intense stare pierces mine. “I think not,” he states.
I don’t know what he’s scheming, but I’ve witnessed his mastermind skills enough times to realize I just need to do what he says. Jack Enzino thinks he’ll get enough weapons and power to crush us after the wedding, but our deal with the Yakuza is finalized, and we’ll meet with the Bratva tomorrow.
Still, I want the brat to stay a little longer. Why? Because I just started fucking him, I need more time to actually destroy him. To me, he is nothing but a whore for cock, filled with issues that Freud himself wouldn’t be able to fix. He didn’t have the perfect life I thought he had. Sure, he has money. He was born into that, but at what high cost?
He still acts like being kidnapped isn’t a big deal, and at times, he seems to think dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to him. Is it because of the scars on his back? Damn it. That’s not something I should be concerned about. I fuck him, that’s all. So many times I lost count, and still I want more of that ass. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let him do whatever he wants. And today I reminded him.
Being reckless can kill you in this world, Jack Enzino’s son should know that. And if anyone is going to hurt him, it’ll be me. No one else is allowed. I called dibs a long time ago. A surge of possession fills me, and I let it grow. He is part of my vendetta after all. He is an Enzino. I could never forget that.
“There are a couple of loose ends I’d like to talk to first,” I tell Seb.
“Alright. You have four more days. Then Arturo Enzino goes back home.” His words have never sounded more final.
“How about the two-timing dirty cop who bled all over your necktie? Get anything from him?”
I nod. “Nothing about the pendant, but the way Doppi’s son was tortured and killed reminded him of two other murders from last year. They made the news. I asked Detective Casper to look into it, and he discovered three more similar cases. All young boys, barely in their twenties, living alone. No ties to Coretti or any other family, though.”