Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He wants to play dirty? I'm already in the mud, waiting for him.
“I have a few things to discuss with you, but Costello called me directly this morning and fucked my plans.” When I look up from the checklist, Romero's wearing a sour expression. I'm used to nothing less when it comes to Sebastian.
I need his shit like I need a hole in the head. “I don't have time for an impromptu meeting. If he's not happy with our offer, he can cry about it while sucking my dick.”
“He was fine with that. He said there's been a change in plans–sounded almost manic.”
“A change in plans? These aren't his plans to change.”
“He's probably worked up because those warehouses were supposed to go to him.”
“Considering nothing's set in stone, he's crying over spilled milk.”
All Romero does is smirk, lifting a shoulder. “You can tell him that when he gets here. I'll stand back and watch.”
“He's young and will soon realize it was nothing except a strategic move.”
“I agree, but you can be the one who explains that to him. Nothing I say to him will leave much impact.”
“Fine, fine.” I wave a hand, hardly giving a shit what the kid thinks he's owed. Considering he hasn't done anything yet to earn what he believes should be his, he has zero room to complain. “And we're fully manned, otherwise?”
“We have double the guards on duty at the club, at the restaurant, at the warehouses, and all of them are working six-hour shifts to ensure they're fresh in case something goes down.”
It doesn't feel like enough. We knew when we went into this that Moroni would be chomping at the bit to get back at me, however, having men working in shifts at my various businesses doesn't leave me feeling secure. “I'll ask Sebastian to provide additional men to keep an eye on things.”
“If he's trying to change plans because he's pissed over what he thinks he's owed, I doubt he'll feel generous..”
“He doesn't have to feel generous. He only has to care about his own self-interest.”
Our eyes meet when the phone rings, and we both know who it is without looking. I pick up the phone and tell Henry to let Sebastian through. “I didn't think he meant he was on his way already,” Romero mutters, shrugging into his suit jacket.
“He's young and impatient. It's not a surprise.” Frankly, I'm glad for it. Every moment I spend without something to occupy my mind is a moment spent in agony. Where is she? What will she do today? Has she commiserated with Tatum yet? For all I know, this could be what brings them back together, something for them to relate over. They can join together in their hatred of me and everything I stand for.
Romero steps out, and I assume he means to greet Sebastian. Instead, he gets no more than a few steps from my doorway before his voice rings out. “This is unusual. Guests don't normally show themselves to Mr. Torrio's office without being greeted first.”
“Can we please drop the bullshit?” I look up from my computer in time to see Sebastian shoulder past Romero before marching into my office. Usually, he's the definition of collected, almost annoyingly so, though not today. Today, his eyes glitter like a man who stumbled over a gold mine. Romero's right. He looks as manic as he sounds. “Been here before, and I'm not some beggar looking to kiss the ring.”
I sit back, hands folded, sizing him up in a single glance. “You're in quite the mood today. To what do I owe the pleasure of you strolling in here without waiting to be greeted?”
“I'm here to make sure you don't hear chatter and get the wrong idea.”
I blink, waiting for more. When he merely stares at me, his shoulders rising and falling as he jogs from the car, I lift my brows. “Care to elaborate?”
“The warehouses. That could only have been a message.”
“A message to Moroni. Not to you.” Why do I feel like we're speaking two different languages? “Why would I send you a message?”
He blinks rapidly, stammering, color rising in his cheeks. Romero observes all of this from the doorway, frowning in puzzlement. “I thought… I mean, I assumed you heard and wanted to take away part of what you promised me.”
I didn't promise a damn thing. It was an offer. This kid still has lessons to learn, but I'm more concerned with what he's hinting at. Lesson time can wait. “What are you talking about? Sit down, for God's sake, and take a breath.”
He rakes both hands through his hair before sinking into a chair. “I had planned on telling you, but since he hasn't committed either way…”
“Since who hasn't committed?” The hair on the back of my neck is beginning to lift. I've never enjoyed being the last to know.