Page 81 of Beautiful Ruins
“Do what?”I prompted, sitting back in my chair.
He held my stare for a moment, as if gauging how volatile I was likely to be before proceeding.
“That information you needed about Nathan Azzopardi.”
My expression didn’t change.
“I don’t believe he’ll be a problem anymore.”
Archie’s head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his features.
“And what makes you say that?”
“The man was at my gate two nights ago,” I answered.“I made my position abundantly clear.He is not welcome in Izzy’s life.Or anywhere near it.”
Silence.
“Izzy,” Archie repeated slowly.“As in Isotta Ferraro?”
Something sharp slid under my skin.It was immediate.Irrational.Precise.The sound of her full name coming out of his mouth grated against my nerves in a way I didn’t like examining too closely.
I didn’t enjoy people saying her name.Didn’t enjoy them knowing it, or the thought of her existing in anyone else’s awareness.
The reaction was disproportionate.I knew that.
And yet, the idea of strangers looking at her, speaking about her, forming opinions about her existence, breathing the same air as her without understanding the weight she carried in my world—it put me on edge in a way that bordered on absurd.
At times, I had even caught myself feeling a mild irritation toward the blanket folded over her when she slept.Jealousy.Of fabric.I was fully aware of how unreasonable that was.I was many things.Violent.Possessive.Calculated.But I was not blind.And my attention toward her was no longer casual interest.It was becoming something far more consuming.
“How,” my voice was lower now, “do you know her name?”
Archie didn’t answer immediately.He shook his head instead, lips pressing into a tight line, and gave me a look that was almost sympathetic.
Sympathetic.From Archie Popovich.I did not like that look.
“Not many peopledon’tknow her name at this point,” he was treading carefully with his words.
The crease in my forehead formed before I could stop it.The room felt colder.
“What the fuck are you saying, Archie?”My tone lost its earlier dryness but there was no denying my impatience.“Just spit it out.”
He adjusted his grip on the cane slightly, shifting his weight like a man preparing to deliver something unpleasant but necessary.
“There’s chatter.”
“From where?”
“People I’ve confirmed have ties to Azzopardi.”
My jaw tightened incrementally as he proceeded.Archie’s gaze remained steady.
“He stole five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of product,” he explained.“From Cenk Chernov’s distribution line.Not cash.Drugs.It was high-grade, controlled inventory.”
I listened without commenting.
“Instead of moving it,” Archie added, “he gambled it away at private tables and casinos.He lost it all.”
Of course he did.
