“He wasn’t my business partner,” I spew back at him. “Why the fuck do I need to be there?”
“Because we have to show respect to the dead.”
“Respect,” I mutter. “I didn’t realize that was a word in your vocabulary.”
“There is a risk to the Leota Commission, and it needs to be handled swiftly. You will help me do just that.”
I walk over to the bar and grab a beer from the refrigerator, popping off the top. I tilt my head back, letting the smooth amber ale slide down my throat. I gulp it down in less time than it takes Savio to slip on his shoes, fighting the urge to fling the empty bottle at his temple, or break off the tip and jab it into his throat.
“Are you gonna enlighten me?” I snap, pulling out another beer bottle.
Savio smiles at me. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m going to make another offer.”
“You and your offers. They should come with surgeon general’s warnings,” I mutter, guzzling the ice-cold liquid before slamming it on the glass-top bar.
Tiny hairs on my arms prickle at the thought of seeing Kristina again.
If she’s smart, she’ll tell him to shove whatever offer he has up his ass.
A little while later, we’re seated in the back of Savio’s black Bentley, speeding toward the funeral home in Syosset. Large, sprawling estates line the sides of the streets with lush, rolling lawns and expensive cars lining the long, cobblestone driveways.
It looks just like the Ivankov’s neighborhood.
I stare out the window without giving Savio the satisfaction of my thoughts.
A quick glance in my periphery confirms he’s more occupied by what’s on his phone than by what’s looping through my mind right now.
Kristina.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her over the past few days, about how badly I wanted to comfort her in the hospital because for some inexplicable reason, she managed to wiggle her way under my skin after a few lust-filled minutes at her house.
I keep wondering why she and her sisters are still alive, why they weren’t targeted, and why I’m still stuck in the middle of it all.
Kristina must hold the key or else Savio wouldn’t give two shits about her. He wouldn’t waste his time making nice with the orphaned daughters unless he had an agenda.
He’s not showing respect.
He’s playing an angle.
The car slows to a stop at the curb outside the funeral home and the driver gets out, opening Savio’s door. He walks around to mine but I’m already walking toward the front door.
I pull open the door, the foyer packed with people. I squeeze past them, wrestling my way to the room entrance while Savio glad-hands everyone in his path looking every bit like the distraught business partner.
Fucking fraud.
I swallow a snort, stepping into the room, standing with my back against the wall so I can survey the sea of faces. Looks like every crime family in the tri-state area decided to make a visit tonight. The caskets are closed, large photographs of the Ivankovs sitting atop each one.
My eyes water from the massive amounts of lilies lining the perimeter of the room.
So many fucking lilies.
So much more pollen.
My throat tightens and I tug at the collar of my shirt, loosening it so that I can breathe a little easier.
A feat with all of these damn flowers blanketing the place.
I scout the expansive space, spying photos of the family together on beaches, up in the mountains, on bicycles. I narrow my eyes at the top of Kira Ivankov’s casket, the soft overhead light making the large, gold medal glimmer. I walk toward a table that contains a number of framed photographs of Kira and a smaller version of her holding up a trophy, both in leotards.
Obviously gymnasts.
And then my eyes land on her.
Kristina is flanked on both sides by her sisters. They are tall and blonde while Kristina is of medium height with long, dark wavy hair. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, the tip of her nose bright pink to match her tear-streaked cheeks.
It’s bad to stare at her like this, especially when I’m only focused on what’s beneath that black dress. I clench and unclench my fists, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in my fingertips.
Shit, it’s not just my fingertips that are tingling either.
The same sensation plagued me in front of her house a couple of days ago.
Holding her tight in my arms, her lush tits pressed against me, her back gently arched, her full pink lips beckoning me for a taste…
It only took seconds before I decided I had to have her.
Forward, backward, sideways, upside down.
How the fuck ever I could get her.
But lusting after her is really kind of moot, since after tonight, I’ll probably never see her again.
“You a colleague of my brother and Savio? You were in his office the other day,” a gruff voice snarls, snapping me back to reality.
I jerk my head to the right, finding myself eye to eye with a man who looks a lot like Anton.
“We met a few times but never worked together,” I lie. It’s not like Anton can challenge me now.
His lips twist. “What’d you say your name was, again?”
“Frank,” Savio’s smooth voice interrupts my next line of bullshit before it can hit the air. “This is Massimo. He is my head of security. He came with me tonight, just in case.” He shakes his head. “Members of the syndicate have a lot of enemies, and right now, we don’t know who launched this attack.” He leans forward, a pinched expression on his face. “And who might be watching and waiting to take a crack at someone else.”
Frank presses his lips together. “I wouldn’t know much about your little secret society,” he scoffs. “Since I’m not actually a member. And because of my brother, I have my own problems to deal with, so forgive me for not giving a fuck about your little boys’ club.”
Savio’s forehead creases, placing his hand on Frank’s arm as a gesture of concern.
“You know as well as I do that the enemies of the syndicate don’t limit their attacks to the members. You have a lot to consider now, Frank, with yourself and the girls. It’s a very dangerous time for us.”
Savio pulls me away and shoves me toward the front of the room. “What a goddamn idiot,” he hisses against my ear. “He’d have never been considered for membership to the Leota Commission. He’s got his head so far up his ass, he can see his dinner from last night.”
“You sure it’s only his head? He seemed to have a pole rammed up there the other day when he barged into that meeting.”
“Frank is a greedy bastard who would cut his own mother’s throat for a nickel. Anton gave him a job and a life and it was still never good enough.”
I take a long, hard look at Frank. He might be an idiot but sometimes, those are the most dangerous kind of people. They don’t realize what they have so they make stupid choices and take unnecessary risks.
Makes me wonder why Savio is so focused on these elusive ‘enemies’ when Frank is clearly a suspect.
We approach the caskets and Savio doesn’t hesitate. He kneels in front of them, making the sign of the cross and hanging his head like a man who actually gives a shit about someone other than himself.
It’s a nice show — perfect form and emotion — unless you actually know the guy.