Sold by Clarissa Wild
Marcello
Two days later
I’ve been buried in work in the two days since the massacre at Bottoms Up. Everything in my business—especially things regarding next week’s electronics shipment—needs to be checked, re-checked, and checked again. I refuse to be caught off guard a second time.
But the fact remains that I was caught off guard. All because of a woman. It damn near cost me everything.
I have my men scouring the city, looking for any information about what went down at the club. I need proof, someone willing to talk. Did the attack have anything to do with me, or did the Irish piss off someone else as well?
The men who could most likely provide the answers I’m looking for, the Duffy brothers, have vanished without a trace. No one has seen or heard from them in over forty-eight hours. They’re well-connected men — parasites, of course, leeching on the blood of the city’s powerful families, but well-connected nonetheless. Their contacts in Ireland provide excellent weapons at very reasonable prices. Without them, half the Mafias’ artilleries wouldn’t exist and that’s the only reason I was doing business with them.
But no matter where I look, scouring the darkest corners of my territory, I can’t find the fuckers. That means they’re either dead or in hiding. I hope for their sake that it is the former. It will save me from having to kill them myself because no one fucks with me and gets away with it.
Setting that worry aside, I have to focus on my shipment due to arrive in a couple of days. Even though my armory is well stocked, I still need more weapons. I could reach out to the Russians, but underground chatter says Igor Metdner and the Bratva had something to do with the attack on the club.
Along with the Duffy brothers, some of the waitresses and dancers are missing. The girl who caught my attention as well.
If it was Igor’s doing, then it means there’s a war coming, and I need to be prepared.
Igor is merciless and cruel, having shed his own fair amount of blood. There is no crime he hasn’t committed several times over, no ally he has not shown himself willing to stab in the back. He is a snake— a dangerous one. I need to think things through because there’s no walking into Igor’s territory and demanding answers. That’s not how it works in our world.
If I want answers—and weapons—I’ll need to pretend I don’t want to kill the fucker at first sight. The thought alone puts a foul taste in my mouth. I want Igor’s blood dripping from my hands, not to go shake his fucking hand. But my thirst for his blood won’t get shit done. I have to be calm and first get my hands on enough weapons so I’ll be able to remain standing once the war is over.
My thoughts return to the girl with the fiery spirit and defiant eyes. Christ, just thinking of her is enough to stir my cock to life. While I was standing in the VIP room with her, all I wanted to do was strip her naked and devour every inch of her creamy skin. I wanted to hear her moans as I claimed her body. I wanted her screaming my name until I was sure she would never forget it.
I shouldn’t have left her there. I should’ve taken her, even if it was kicking and screaming. Taming her would’ve helped ease the stress bearing down on my shoulders.
A knock on the door of my office has my head snapping up. “Yes.”
“Marcello,” Claudio says as he enters, slipping a cell phone into his pocket. “Igor is willing to meet.”
Leaning back in my chair, I lock my gaze with Claudio’s. “Where?”
Claudio hesitates, and it has me saying, “Don’t waste my fucking time. Where?” He swallows hard. “He requests that you join him.”
I let out a dark chuckle as I slowly shake my head. “Rumors are circulating he’s the one who orchestrated the attack on the club, and he wants me to come to him?” I let out another chuckle. “Call the fucker and tell him he’s lost his fucking mind.”
Claudio sinks into one of the leather armchairs on the other side of my desk. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly as he says, “I think we should fulfill his request, Marcello.”
I steeple my fingers and clench my jaw. “Tell me why the hell I’d do something so fucking stupid.”
“We have rumors, nothing more, and there’s no concrete proof he even knew we were at the club.”
I growl, “What if the Duffys were the first of his targets, and we’re next? We’ll be walking into a trap.”
Claudio just stares at me until I say, “I’m willing to meet him on neutral ground. If he doesn’t want to, then I’ll find another arms dealer.”
Claudio nods and rises to go do as I ordered.
I spend the next hour working, and when I take a break, leaning back in my chair again, my thoughts return to the girl from the club.
I wonder where she is and what she’s doing, and if she’s replaying the moment again and again in her head as I’ve done for two days straight. I wonder if she got out before the attack and if she’s even still alive. Her body wasn’t amongst the dead, so there’s hope she got out in time.
I wonder if I will ever see her again.
And I wonder if, when that day comes… how good will it be to finish what I started?
Igor agreedto a meeting on neutral ground, and as I walk into the bathhouse that looks like an exclusive spa, a Russian hostess smiles at me. “Welcome, Mr. Dellucci. Mr. Metdner is expecting you. Here’s your robe, sir.”
She hands me a white cotton bathrobe and gestures for me to follow her. I allow myself one brief glance back at the glass front doors as we move down the hallway. My men are on standby right outside the bathhouse should anything go wrong.
Halfway down the hall, the woman stops and gestures for me to go through a door to the left before heading back to the reception area.
Walking into the locker rooms, I strip off my clothes quickly and pull on the bathrobe, then walk toward the door that leads to where Igor is waiting. With the meeting being held at a bathhouse, neither of us will be armed, which is exactly how I prefer it.
Entering the room, I’m greeted by a cloud of steam. The temperature is balmy. Men occupy the benches lining the walls.
I’m instantly reminded why I want this meeting to be over with as soon as possible.
One of Igor’s men approaches me. “Welcome, Mr. Dellucci. Mr. Metdner is waiting for you. This way.”
Good. I’ve had enough of waiting around.
He pivots and leads me to the far end of the room, where Igor sits on one of the benches.
When we’re close to Igor, his guard says, “Mr. Dellucci is here to see you, sir.”
“Marcello!” He chuckles as if we’re friends. It’s all about pretenses in our world. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. “Come, my friend. Sit beside me.” He pats the bench next to him. I take one last glance around as the guard retreats and disappears into the steam.
Leisurely, I move closer and take a seat as if I have all the time in the world. The corner of my mouth lifts as I turn my attention to Igor. “It’s been a long time. I trust you’ve been well?”
“It has,” Igor agrees, returning my fake smile. “As always, business has been well. And with you?”
I nod. “No complaints.”
“What brings you here, then?” he asks, getting right to business.
“I was supposed to purchase weapons from the Irish, but they got detained. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”
Letting out an amused chuckle, he says, “Ah, yes… the attack on the club.”
“Did you know I was there?” I raise a brow.
His lips part, but he pauses for a moment. “No. If I did, I would have instructed my men to hold off until you had left.” He clears his throat. “Believe me, Marcello. It was nothing personal. But the Irish deserved what they got.”
I frown. “Mind if I ask why?”
“You know how it works in our world. You don’t fuck with the Bratva and get away with it,” Igor replies, not giving much away.
I nod because it’s the same with the Italian Mafia.
“Business is business, Marcello. You get this.”
Letting out a chuckle, I say, “It is what it is.” I don’t want to dwell on it too long. Even though a Russian’s word is anything but trustworthy, I have other business with Igor that is more important than a hit on two lowlife Irish boys.
“So … what can I do for you, Marcello?” Igor asks.
“I need weapons,” I respond.
Igor turns his face away from me. “When do you need them by?”
“As soon as possible,” I answer, watching my enemy closely.
“I tell you what. Come onto my yacht this weekend. There will be an auction on Saturday at seven o’clock. You may find something you like along with the weapons you need.”
I grit my teeth, not liking the idea of being on his yacht one fucking bit. “I’d prefer to deal with you directly and privately, Igor.”
Shaking his head, he says, “It’s the soonest I can help you. Come on. We’ll have a drink, and there will be women for you to choose from. Have some fun while we’re talking business.”
The last thing I want to do is offend the Russian before I can get the weapons, so I agree. “Sure, why not.”
He claps me on the back. “This is excellent news. Well, then, business is done, no?”
“Yes. I’ll see you on Saturday,” I say as I stand, ready to be done with the stifling heat of the sauna. “Tell me this. How is your mother?” Igor suddenly asks.
At that, my blood runs cold. My fists ball up at my sides as a hot flash of anger surges behind my eyes. The fucker must have a death wish asking me something like that.
“Seriously,” I grind the word out between clenched teeth. “Do you really want to go there with me?”
There’s a tense moment of sizzling aggression between us, communicated wordlessly, head of Mafia to head of the Bratva.
Igor gives me an apologetic look. “I meant no offense, Marcello,” he insists. “Send her my best regards.”
Not trusting myself to remain calm another second, I nod and walk toward the door. There’s no doubt in my mind the war is coming. Fuck that, it’s already started, so I need to cover all my bases.
As I strip out of the bathrobe, I don’t even shower and pull on my clothes. I’ll fucking shower at home once I’ve instructed Claudio to contact the Polish about weapons.
And when I’m done with all of it … I’m going back to that fucking club to try to find that girl.
