He heard the woman’s heels clicking against the floor as she followed him through the bustling restaurant, still hollering at his back like he gave a single fuck about her. He didn’t. Not at all.
His contact said if Andino wasn’t having business in the private dining section of the place, then he would be in the back office at the far end of the kitchen. Passing the private area with a quick glance said Andino was in the office, so that’s exactly where Alessio went.
Cooks in the kitchen yelled at him, too.
Fun.
He ignored them as well.
“Sir, you can’t be back—”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Alessio came face to face with likely one of the biggest men he had ever seen in his life when he turned the corner around a rack in the kitchen. At least four inches taller than Alessio’s nearly six-foot-three height, and probably a good sixty pounds of extra muscle than him, too. He had more of a boxer’s quality. This man looked like he needed to be on the defense line of a fucking football team.
The guy stood in front of the open doorway that led into the office, and directly behind his very wide shoulders, he found the man he wanted to see sitting at his desk.
Beside that desk sat a ruddy-colored pit bull.
More fun.
“Me?” Alessio asked.
The muscle—no doubt, an enforcer for Andino’s crime family who kept him protected while he worked—cocked an eyebrow like he wasn’t here for this shit. Well, surprise, asshole ... neither was Alessio.
“Who else am I looking at?” the enforcer snapped.
“Well, I’m not important,” Alessio said, smiling just enough to piss the man off. If the guy wanted to try to make a move on Les, then he was more than welcome to come right on ahead and do it. All he had to say about that was the bigger one was, the harder they fucking fell when Alessio punched them in the throat. He pointed around the man’s large shoulder, saying, “That man right there is who matters at the moment, and I have a meeting to speak with him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do, actually.”
The enforcer’s lips flattened into a grim line. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you—”
“Pink, let him in.”
Alessio had all he could do not to laugh. He grinned instead, staring up at the bigger man with all the cockiness he could muster as he said, “Pink, huh, that’s cute.”
“I will fucking kill you.”
“Yeah, you could certainly try.”
“Well, as amusing as this is,” Andino muttered inside the office, “let him in, Pink. Stay nearby, of course.”
“If you’re sure, boss ...”
“I am sure.”
Pink stepped aside, and Alessio winked at the man which only made his brow furrow, before he took a second look at him. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of Alessio, and it put him on edge.
Good.
It should.
“Don’t stand out there and continue to taunt him,” Andino said, sounding entirely bored behind his desk, “because then I won’t be responsible for what he does once you’re out of my sight. Like Snaps here,” he added, gesturing down at the mean looking dog next to him, “Pink only minds when he is in my view. I’m sure you understand.”
Noted.
Alessio gave the enforcer a look from the side before he entered the office and closed the door behind him at Andino’s gesture to do so. The man didn’t offer him a chair to sit in, however, but that was fine with him. He would much rather stand for this.
Eyeing the dog next to the desk who looked like he was considering whether or not he wanted to find out what Alessio and his leather jacket might taste like, he asked Andino, “What is your business with Corrado Guzzi?”
“What is your business with him?”
Ah.
That question.
Well, that was not simple.
Part of Alessio and Corrado’s thing of not being public with their relationship dealt with the fact one of them hadn’t truly dealt with his bisexuality. Not that Alessio was naming names, but it wasn’t him. The other part of it came down to this—when they were open and people knew, it gave others the power to hurt Corrado and Alessio by using one against the other.
It was one of the only reasons, next to the fact as long as he had Corrado, then he was happy, that he kept this fucking game up between them for all these years. No one would ever have the control to separate or hurt them. If that happened, it was because they chose to do it, not because someone with a touch too much power decided to put their hands in the pot, too, so to speak.
Alessio took his gaze off the dog and leveled it on the man behind the desk instead. “The League—business, that’s all.”
Andino sucked air through his teeth and rested back in the chair. “What, did The League send out one of their dogs to check up on another one of their dogs, or ...?”
“Step very carefully from here on out with your words,” Alessio warned the man, “because I take insults as a challenge, Marcello, and you don’t want to know how I answer those.”
“He owed us a favor.”
“Us as in—”
“My family—the Marcellos. What else do you need to take back so they’ll let me cash that in, and fuck off while I do it, huh?”
Right to the point.
Alessio would have appreciated that on another day, or about any other topic except his lover. When it came to Corrado, he couldn’t appreciate anything that might put him in danger that would take him from Alessio.
Not that Andino knew that.
“Details,” Alessio said, “that’s what we want, just to make sure it’s not something that will overlap with the rest of our business. I’m sure you understand that could be dangerous for him, and for the rest of us at The League.”
“Right,” Andino drawled, “well, there isn’t much to tell, and if he keeps anyone in New York that would know who Ginevra Calabrese is away from her, then none of us will have to worry about any trouble coming his way. Certainly not The League, regardless of what happens. They arranged my marriage to Ginevra but as I didn’t plan on following through, she needed to go away for a while—hence, Corrado watching her. I doubt anyone in Canada knows that woman I sent him off with. Most people here didn’t know who she was, and her face is a dime a dozen in New York. Canada doesn’t mix very much business with the Marcellos, so I assume she is essentially a ghost there with him. Something pretty on his arm, I would say.”
Alessio blinked.
What?
“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice a murmur.
Andino arched a brow. “Did I not speak slow enough for you?”
“He’s looking after ... a woman.”
It wasn’t even a question.
Just ... a statement.
Why wouldn’t Corrado tell him that?
They had rules for a reason—those rules between them kept the men honest, and their relationship open and safe. Telling each other everything was more than just showing their trust but offering their loyalty.
It didn’t make sense that Corrado wouldn’t explain that detail. He could have simply said there was a woman with him, and at the same time, keep the rest from Alessio if it might mess with this favor he owed to Andino.