Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw
Chapter 8
Giovanni
I stareat my reflection in the glass door of the six-story building in front of me. The sun beats down on my back, and a bead of sweat follows the path of my spine. More of them appear along my forehead. That’s how long I’ve been standing here. I’m sure the security guard has already called upstairs about the loiterer who hasn’t moved for the past twenty minutes.
Go inside for Christ’s sake.
I take a deep breath and force myself to enter the air conditioned lobby. The scent of fresh flowers assaults me. It’s like that every time I’ve been here. The soles of my shoes slap across the marble floor echoing in the cavernous space. For once, the sound of construction isn’t present. An unfamiliar security guard mans the desk.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asks as I head toward the elevator.
“Mr. Ricci is expecting me,” I tell him over my shoulder just as the doors open. “Giovanni Saccone.”
“Sir, you can’t just—” The metal panels slide closed, cutting off his words. I’m sure he’s already frantically on the phone letting Jacob know I’m coming.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been to the townhouse. The last time was the night I picked up him and Brenna and took them to Divine. The night everything went to shit.
The elevator dings with my arrival, and after a slight hesitation I step out into the private space outside their suite. I’m already here—I can’t turn and run, no matter how much I want to.
I cross the short distance to the door that I wish was a lot farther away and knock. Before I’m ready, it opens, and I’m face-to-face with Jacob. My gaze darts over his features. Am I imagining the similarities to mine? Or have they always been there and I’m only just noticing them because I’m looking for them?
“You’re late,” he says, moving back to let me in.
Seriously?
“Traffic.” I stride past him and into the living room.
It looks completely different from when I moved Brenna’s stuff in here on her wedding day. There are signs of her everywhere, from the colored pillows on the couch to the bright abstract paintings on the wall to the large vase of flowers in the middle of the coffee table.
“I don’t think there’s much traffic on the sidewalk. I assume you are the suspicious-looking young man Frank called up here to notify me about over twenty minutes ago,” Jacob notes with a dry tone as he steps around me and heads toward the wet bar. “Drink?”
Not even caring that it’s the middle of the afternoon, I nod. “Sure.”
He looks over his shoulder. “What’ll you have?”
“Whiskey.”
Jacob raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything before he turns back and picks up a half empty bottle. He pours two glasses and hands me mine.
“Let’s go up to my office.”
He heads back through the living room and up the stairs leaving me to follow. We enter his private domain at the end of the hall. A massive cherry wood desk takes up more than half the length of the room. There’s a matching bookcase against the wall nearest the door. The floor-to-ceiling windows give the perfect view of the Williamsburg Bridge and Manhattan.
“If you’re done sightseeing, have a seat,” Jacob says.
I jerk my gaze back to him and glare before taking the opposite chair. I’m not sure why I’m here. We stare at each other, neither opening the conversation. Is this some technique he’s using to rattle me? I hate to admit it’s working. I refuse to let him see it, though. Jacob is a shark. Any scent of blood and he’s going in for the kill.
“I assume I’m here for a reason.” With as much nonchalance as I can manage, I lean back and rest my ankle on my opposite knee. I take a slow sip of the whiskey that burns a path down my throat before its heat settles in my gut.
“Have you talked to your mother?” Jacob asks.
“I went to see her yesterday, actually.” If he wants more information from me, I’m going to make him work for it.
“And?”
“And what?” My tone is only barely on this side of respectful.
“Do you really want to play games with me?” Jacob narrows his eyes.
“You asked. I answered. If you want to know what we discussed, then you only had to say so.”
He takes an answering sip of his own drink before mirroring my position. “Has the news that we’re related somehow given you bigger balls? Because I don’t remember you being this mouthy a week ago.”
I smirk. “Are you really asking my ball size?”
“Don’t be such a smartass,” he warns, but there’s amusement in his voice. “Tell me about this discussion you had with your mother.”
“Apparently her big plan is for me to rule the syndicate.”
Jacob cocks his head. “I’m certain that position is already taken.”
I nod. “It’s also not one I have any interest in.”
He studies me. “Most men would be vying for the money and power that comes with it.”
“I’m not most men,” I tell him. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to be a part of the inner circle. To have the men of the organization look up to and respect me. But I’m not looking to take anything from you.”
Jacob barks out a laugh. “As if you could.”
I lift a shoulder. “You’ve only been back in town a few months, after a seven year absence. You’ve also only recently taken over and still have much to prove to the families. Can you be entirely sure that some of the men wouldn’t be willing to take a chance on me? I’m the one who’s been here, working alongside them, while you were gone.”
His expression darkens, and I hold up a hand. “Don’t worry. I told you, I have no desire to take over or cause dissent between your men.”
“What do you want, then?” Jacob asks tightly.
“A chance.”
“A chance for what?”
I take another drink. Before I walked through the door, I didn’t know what I wanted. But sitting here, with my brother, it hits me. I could finally have the family I always wanted. A brother. A sister. It’s why I initiated into the syndicate in the first place. The brotherhood of it. The sense of having people at my back. People who actually gave a fuck about me.
“To be your brother. To earn my place at your side,” I confess. “I don’t want to be a chauffeur, or even a bodyguard. I want to be a man that our enemies fear, because of the family he belongs to.”
Jacob watches me with the intense expression I’ve seen him use on others. I casually sip my whiskey as though I’m not intimidated by him. If I want all the those things, then it’s time I started acting like someone more than who I was before those tests results came in. I’m not just Gio, a nobody. I’m Giovanni Saccone. And I’m the half-brother of the most powerful man in the Italian syndicate on the entire East Coast.
“Are you sure you have what it takes? Our captains aren’t going to just respect you because of your sudden lineage change.”
“I understand,” I tell him. I do, too.
“No doubt there are going to be some who think that you’re reaching beyond what you deserve.”
“Then I’ll prove to them I deserve it.”
“And your mother?” Jacob asks.
“What about her?”
“She’s playing a dangerous game. How far do you think she’s willing to take it?”
“The only thing I know about my mother is that she cares for nothing but herself. When I told you I haven’t seen her in years, it was the truth. So, I have no idea how far she’s willing to go to get what she wants,” I admit. “What I do know is that her wants and mine don’t align. I have no use for her.”
“Are you willing to ensure that the syndicate always comes first?”
“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation.
Jacob sits quietly. “Having the kind of enemies I do isn’t easy. They will do whatever it takes to hurt you. To hurt those you love. You saw what the Russians did to Brenna. Is that a risk you’re willing to take? Is that a risk she’s willing to take? Because she’s been caught in the crossfire before. That’s something you need to consider.”
He doesn’t have to explain who she is. He’s right, too. Francesca has already endured more than she should. Can I ask her to draw that kind of attention to herself? Is it fair of me to do that to her?
“I’ll think about what you said,” I tell him. I don’t want to do anything to hurt her more than she has been. “What about Brenna? She wasn’t a target before your marriage. Do you regret putting one on her back?”
It’s a disrespectful, if honest, question.
“As you know, our marriage came about because of a contract that I didn’t sign. Could I have refused?” His question is rhetorical, but he answers anyway. “Yes. But it wasn’t just me I had to think about. It was the entire syndicate and building a powerful connection to defeat the Russians.”
I cock my head. “You didn’t actually answer my question. Do you regret making her a target?”
Jacob stares hard at me. “If I say yes, then that implies I also regret my marriage. I love my wife. And in this life, you can’t worry about regrets or they will eat you alive.”
