Page 7 of His Obsession
He tosses me his phone. “I got it all on camera for ya.”
“I don’t need to be part of this conversation,” Nico says, already standing.
Nico knows about our less legal operations, but he chooses to stay out of them. It helps cover us legally, and he just doesn’t want to know. He told me a long time ago that it’s easier to be my friend when he pretends I’m not a Mafia boss.
“Before you go,” I say, stopping him. “Set up a meeting with Carlo Marchetti.”
“I assume that’s a professional meeting.” He smirks.
“Of course,” I reply with a shrug. “What else would it be?”
He gives me the finger as he walks out, already typing something onto his iPad.
Matteo studies me for a second after Nico leaves. “Darren?” he asks.
“In the unemployment line, I assume.” I shrug. “He wasn’t a bad guy. Just a bad manager.”
He nods. “Letting Vince stew a little longer,” he says, sounding bored. “Can’t let him off easy just because he spilled his guts.”
“Keep it quiet,” I remind him. “I don’t normally like to deal with that shit here.”
“Want me to move him to the warehouse?” he asks, meaning our usual spot for this kind of thing.
“Your call,” I say. “You’re good at figuring out if someone’s a legitimate threat or just a hapless idiot. He may not need much more convincing.”
Matteo smirks. “He almost shit his pants when I pulled out the saw.”
I chuckle. “Good. You coming to Nico’s tonight?”
“Yeah, looking forward to not having to cook myself.”
“His sister’s coming,” I tell him.
“Forgot she even lived here,” he says, glancing down at his nails. “She hot?”
“I think Nico would kick your ass for even asking that question.”
“I don’t think Nico would win that fight.” He smirks, and we both know he’s right.
After a moment, I press my call button. “Send in Chef Stanley,” I tell my assistant.
Time to deal with my third problem of the day.
3
VALENTINA
By the time I pull up outside Nico’s house, I’m already irritated.
Part of it is traffic. Part of it is the fact that I had a perfectly valid excuse not to come. One of my clients called in a panic over centerpieces she hates for an event only six weeks away. I was ready to spend the evening walking her through options, but Nico shut that down immediately.
“You can fix it tomorrow,” he’d said firmly. “Six weeks is a lifetime.”
I’d laughed at him. “Not in the event space, Nico. Six weeks is basically a day.”
“Well, five weeks and six days isn’t going to kill her, but I might kill you if you don’t show up tonight.”
I rolled my eyes, but I had one of my assistants meet with her in my place. Delegating doesn’t come easy to me, but it’s the only way to be in two places at once.
