Page 58 of Empire of Lust
“I hope so.”
“Who told you?” I have to know. My eyes sweep the grounds as I drive up to the house. Is there a traitor among my men? If so, it’s been too long since I’ve had target practice. I can see it now, the potential traitors scrambling for cover while I take shots from my office window.
“I can’t say, so don’t bother trying. I promised I wouldn’t tell.” I’m familiar enough with the defiance in her voice to know it’s pointless to push. I’ll find out in time, anyway. If there’s a leak somewhere around here, it needs to be plugged.
“No more spending money on that guy,” I warn. “I’ll cut the cards off, and you’ll have to come home. Got it?”
“Got it,” she mutters. “Love you.”
“Love you.” She took that better than I imagined, but something tells me it’ll be different once she gets home. Whenever that is. No wonder Kristoff isn’t in a hurry to return; he’s living it up in Italy on my dime. We’ll need to have a talk once they get back.
I pass Romero’s house while ending the call and notice a light on inside. Rather than park in the courtyard, I pull over to the side of the driveway and knock on the door to the renovated gardener’s shed a few hundred yards from my front door.
He comes to the door dressed like he has just finished a workout. “I didn’t think you’d be back already, or else I would’ve—”
“Am I that much of a taskmaster? Your time is your own. I wanted to know if you met up with the doctor.” I haven’t been able to keep their appointment out of my head.
He nods, waving me inside before heading to the desk under the front window. This place is twice the size it was when I first bought the house and land, which means it’s roughly as big as the row home I grew up in. Whenever I get too comfortable or used to the luxuries that have become second nature, a visit to Romero’s home reminds me of where I came from.
He keeps it tidy but sparse. I suppose a workaholic bachelor doesn’t need much more than a little furniture in the living area and the necessities in the bedroom. He’s more than welcome to take his meals up at the house. That doesn’t leave him with much time to kick back around here.
He hands over the plain, wrapped package containing the sugar pills and fertility shots. Nothing about his attitude tells me he has the first clue what’s inside, and even if he did, Romero knows better than to question me. I don’t pay him for that. “He was extremely grateful for the fee.”
“I’m sure he was.” As I close my hands around the brown paper-wrapped box, I snicker. I made a point of paying double the usual rate this time around. “Thanks for taking care of this.” And for not asking questions. But discretion is the name of the game, and that’s one thing I can always count on from him.
Before I can head up to the house to switch out my little bird’s birth control the way I’ve looked forward to for days, he holds up a hand to stop my retreat. “One more thing. I got a call from Jack Moroni down in Miami.”
Fuck me.This isn’t good. Moroni is my main go-between there.
“I knew that shipment issue would come to bite me in the ass.”
“No, it isn’t that. He wants a meeting and says he has a business proposition to discuss.”
Somehow, that’s worse. “Let me guess. He wants to marry his son off to Tatum and unite the families? It’s not the first time he’s come to me with the idea.”
His dark brows draw together over narrowed eyes. “Is that something you would consider?”
“What? Arranging a marriage for my daughter?” When I laugh it off, he doesn’t join me. His features remain cold and stoic. “It’s a joke, in case you missed that. I wouldn’t actually consider arranging her marriage, no matter which family we were talking about. This isn’t the nineteenth century.”
“What if it meant solidifying the situation in Florida? You wouldn’t string the guy along, at the very least?”
He knows me too fucking well. “What’s this about? There’s no harm to be done either way.”
“I don’t trust Moroni, and we don’t know his son,” he reminds me, scowling. “I can’t imagine the son being much better than the slimy father. I can make some calls and ask around, but regardless, I have a bad feeling.”
I don’t have time for this discussion, but more than that, I don’t care. I know my intentions, and that’s all that matters. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about. It’ll never happen, but I want you to reach out and let Moroni know I’m open to a meeting. After that fucking debacle with the crates, I can’t afford to piss anyone else off.”
His jaw tightens, but he says nothing, only nods. “You know,” I add on my way out the door, “you should take the rest of the night off. Go out, have a drink, and get laid. You’re too tense.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” Something about the darkness in his voice tells me he won’t, but it isn’t my problem if he doesn’t take the offer.
One of us needs to have their mind on business, and I can’t complain if that person is him. My mind is miles away from where it needs to be, which I’m sure he knows but is smart enough not to mention. As it is, I have to keep myself from running to the house and straight to Bianca’s room.
For some reason, I thought things would get easier now that I don’t have to stay away from her. My obsession has only shifted. Now, if I’m not either eating her pussy or fucking her, I’m reminiscing about the last time I did. Wishing I was doing it again. I can’t get her out of my head or from under my skin.
I choose to head to my office and drop off the package from the doctor before going to find her. I can’t walk straight into her room with this in hand and risk her asking questions. I’m even whistling as I walk down the hall. Aside from two credit cards going over their limit and knowing my daughter’s dating a freeloader, everything’s going my way.
The whistle dies in my throat when I notice lights on inside my office. What the hell? I round the open doorway and find Bianca in tears at my desk. Instantly, I’m taken back to the day she moved in when I found her in here crying. Only weeks ago, even if it feels like a lifetime ago. There’s a manila envelope on the desk. The one Lucas forced on her.