CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUCIANO
Sprawled lazily in a lawn chair, I flung my arm over my eyes to keep out the sun my skin greedily soaked up. The days were longer and the nights shorter now that Georgio was gone; I could sleep at night without having to drive half an hour to escape the screams. Lounging in the heat that baked Sylvi’s two acre back yard, I tapped my foot absently to the Italian music that seeped from the windows.
Edith loved listening to music while she prepped and cooked, but it’d been scarce while the big bad Boss was around. A grimace dragged down my lips at the thought that she’d be scared of Georgio; she was a sweet woman.
“Luciano, there you are…” Grunting at Sylvi’s call, I didn’t lift my arm even as shuffling sounded in my ears. “I need your help picking out a new hostess. Tyler’s busy updating the security system and-”
“No.” Cutting my brother off, I took a deep breath of dry air before opening my mouth again. “Go whore shopping by yourself, Sylvi. Or just don’t go at all. It’s bad manners to tell a cagna you’ll set her free and set her up without clarifying that not only will you fuck her but you’ll torture her, too.”
A sharp bark of laughter followed my words into the windless atmosphere, and Sylvi dropped onto the chair next to mine with a clatter.
“You honestly expect me to believe you give any fucks at all about them, Luciano? I get it- you don’t want to put your hands on a woman that doesn’t want it. I really get that. But these whores signed up for this. Every one of them knew the risk when they started working.”
My lip curled into a snarl at Sylvi’s assessment, and I uncovered my eyes to loll my head to the side. Looking for a new hostess always gave him an excited air about him, and this time was no different. It was inconceivable to me how someone could act like a kid in a candy store when it came to hurting women.
Then again, he’s right. They signed up for this.
“You’re a fucking disgrace, Sylvi.” Sylvi’s face instantly broke into a grin, and I gnashed my teeth as I pushed myself up. Resigning myself to the fact that he was right, I grabbed my discarded shirt from the back of my lounge. I really didn’t care about the girls and who did what to them; I just wasn’t going to be a part of it. They knew the odds of tricking someone violent, and the men that frequented the lesser quality places were just that. Violent, drunk, loud.
But knowing that didn’t spark any humanity in my chest.
“Awesome. I’ve been worried about you, Brother. You spend too much time with that girl.” Scowling at Sylvi, I pulled my shirt over my head to find his grin gone and expression serious. “I hope for your sake she doesn’t develop Stockholm Syndrome or something. You should hand her over to Doctor Bethel for a while. If she thinks you love her, need her, and she lets you fuck her while she’s not in her right state of mind…”
Letting the insinuation hang in the air, Sylvi watched me with intent brown eyes as a harsh shiver of disgust slid down my spine. For a moment I was silent, my mind running over every interaction Aya and I had had. At first, she was scared. Scared enough to piss in my car.
She still flinches and whimpers whenever I grab her. She wouldn’t talk to anyone else; God only knew how fucking hard Sarah had tried. She didn’t leave her room unless I told her to.
None of that means she’s delusional.
Shaking my head hard, I pushed past Sylvi and into the house on stiff legs.
“I didn’t ask for your input, Sylvi, and I don’t fucking want it. I’m not going to fuck her. Since you’re only thinking with your dick right now, I’ll drive. As much as I want to tell the coroner to shove your cock up your ass, I’d rather not deal with Georgio or whatever piss brain he sends to replace you.” Snatching my keys from the door hook, I clenched the jagged metal in my fist.
Pulling out of the driveway, I rolled down the windows before grabbing my pack of cigarettes. Driving took a back burner, my thoughts instead going to Aya. Every time I wrapped my fingers around her slender neck or grabbed her arm, she always reacted the same way- fearfully. The attack was quick, harsh, and sometimes overwhelmed her, but it always seeped away in mere seconds.
She was so obedient, and a tickle in the back of my head told me it wasn’t because I could kill her so easily. Anymore, at least.
“-ano- Luciano. Man-” Glancing over, I ignored Sylvi’s dirty look to take a deep drag of my cigarette. “I asked you if the girl knows about the money.”
“I didn’t tell her.” Smoke slithered out of my mouth and nose as I spoke, and I adjusted my grip on the wheel. Money- what the fuck would Aya need $10 million for? Such an amount was fucking absurd for one girl with no family, no friends, and no plans for the future.
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t know about it. Tyler said it’s being held en trust by the partner at the law firm. Take her this week.” My blood simmered at the command, but I beat back the itching of my fists to inhale more toxins. “It’s not a lot of money, but è meglio di niente. Especially if she decides she doesn’t want to be an ‘independent woman that don’t need no man’.”
Snickering at his own stupidity, Sylvi reached to turn on the radio, and I hung my elbow out the window. My brain churned, my heart tightening in my chest and my legs stiffening.
What if Aya decided to go? Sucking on the butt of my cigarette, my jaw ticked at the thought. Over my dead fucking body.
The brothel I drove to was part of Sylvi’s extensive collection of premier hotels. Stretching 19 stories high, it catered primarily to businessmen during their travels. Three restaurants provided room service, there was a full time staff, and every single piece of decor was business casual.
I fucking hated this particular hotel from the moment Sylvi’s architect came to him with the plans. There was too much tight, and not enough slack. People used the indoor pool so little it’d been taken out completely and replaced with hot tubs.
Stalking through the wide, motion activated, glass doors, I didn’t bother to hide my scowl. The girl that was tasked with greeting each and every guest happily and excitedly stared at me with her mouth open. Her green vest accentuated her bust, but normal employees weren’t part of the giant machine Sylvi operated. Giant brown eyes took me in, her face growing paler by the second.
“Luciano!” Before me the girl jumped, her eyelids brimming with tears from ignoring the need to blink for so long. Turning my gaze to the woman that spoke, I pursed my lips together as she sauntered from the front desk. Her long, spindly fingers wrapped around the younger woman, giving her a reassuring pat.
Fake gray eyes flickered over my face before Arin released her employee, freeing her to scurry away in black pants that were much too form fitting.
“I was hoping you would be by. Where’s Sylvi-”
“I’m right here, my dear Arin. I was having too much fun watching Luciano scare that woman just by standing there.” Gracefully stepping out of the shadows, Sylvi chuckled lowly as a smile slipped onto Arin’s aged face. She was in her early 40s and had once been a working girl herself. By the time he’d taken over, she was ready to retire. Sylvi wasn’t oblivious to her talents outside of the bedroom, so he put her to work seven years ago. Now she had a husband, three children, and a house with a white picket fence.
Not to mention all of it was legitimate.
“You know that’s bad for morale, boy. Sophia is a very soft soul- too soft to be toyed with like that. Now, how about we converse in your suite?” Glancing around the lobby as Sylvi nodded, my eyes narrowed on the eyes that scanned me from head to toe. Differentiating those who were in the Italian-made machine from those who weren’t was easy.
This particular hotel was a front for metric-fuck-tonnes of drugs, and despite their nice suits and well manners drug runners were still slimy.
The elevator ride was quiet; Arin was a woman of few words when others could be around to hear. Leaning against the platinum plated walls, I narrowed my gaze on Sylvi’s as he tapped his fingers absently against his suit pants. His earlier excitement about whore shopping was gone, replaced instead with a thoughtfulness that never boded well for anyone.
“I was surprised to learn Georgio left so quickly, Sylvi. He spent nearly a month and a half here when Luccia took over.” Entering the master suite on the 19th floor, Arin spoke with a flippant curiosity only she could get away with. Georgio had shipped us to America the day we turned 18, and ever since then the older woman has been there. She was smart; the past 15 years hadn’t dulled her at all. Her children were lucky to have a mom that could change her own life so drastically.
Mine certainly couldn’t, and the thought left a bitter taste on my tongue as I followed Sylvi into the open living room.
“That was seven years ago, Arin. Times have changed. Not to mention I worked hard to get this far, and Georgio recognizes that.” Flat, Sylvi dropped onto a dark brown, suede sectional couch to cross his legs and throw his arm over the back. “Either that, or he thinks he knows me better because we bonded in a way that he and Luccia never could.”
“Ah, yes- the real reason you’re here. I hope you have an idea of what you want so I don’t spend all day going through girls like last time. From what I heard you weren’t even too fond of Lilli.” Settling onto the other end of the couch, beyond the curve, I sunk in my seat and spread my legs. Arin shook her head, but she didn’t need an answer; Sylvi didn’t give her one. There was nothing to say, after all.
Sylvi knew Georgio would be visiting at some point, so he picked the girls he didn’t like for his mentor.
“Even so! I promise not to keep you from your little children tonight, Arin. Now, let’s get on with it. I’ve got an itch I need scratched.”