Page 12 of Damaged Beast
I hold out my hand. “Double my salaryforever. So long as I’m your assistant.”
He considers for only a second before shaking. “You have a deal.”
I almost moan at the thought. Double! Forever! This is going to change my life. It’s going to make my father’s illness so much more manageable.
And all I have to do is find the city’s most notorious asshole playboy a woman willing to be his fake wife.
Should be easy money.
CHAPTER 6
PRIME
Stellan Corsetti crosses to my bar cart and pours himself a drink. He sweeps a hand through his thick sandy hair and looks back at me, shaking the bottle to ask if I want one, which is a stupid fucking question and I tell him so, which makes him laugh.
He puts the glasses down on my desk and lounges in my guest chair. “I have to admit it’s nice to get out of the main house,” he says, stretching his legs. “And you’ve done well for yourself lately.”
“You came all the way out here to kiss my ass, huh boss?”
Stellan barks another laugh. I grin back at him. We’ve been through a lot and I’m the only man in the Corsetti Famiglia who could ever talk to him like that, though never in front of anyone else.
“Since I gave you everything you have, I like to think complimenting you is really just complimenting myself.”
“Love that circular logic.”
He tips his glass in my direction. “Cheers then.”
We drink in companionable silence. I have to admit, I miss spending time with Stellan. Ever since he ascended to the throne of the outfit, he’s been busy with family and business, and I’ve been caught up running my own little slice of the kingdom. It’s rare we get together like this anymore.
But it’s good, remembering where we both came from. The sacrifices we’ve made to get where we are.
“Arturo talk to you about the shipments?” Stellan asks casually and uses a code name we invented a while back.
“Artie’s on top of everything, don’t worry.”
“And the boxes are going where they need to go? No hiccups in the supply chain?”
“I have the chain on lock.”
“Always good to hear.”
Even here, in my own office, Stellan can’t bring himself to be more explicit than that, but we both know what he means. The boxes are enormous piles of cocaine and the supply chain is my network of dealers working through the parking lots. It’s an ingenious system, really, using primarily cash-only spaces to launder drugs through. Helps that the cops in Philly are very friendly to the Corsetti family.
I ask him about his baby son Bruno, almost three now, and his wife Kira, and he chats on and on about what it’s like to be a father. Sounds like hell if I’m honest: all that responsibility, all those different ways he can go ahead and fuck up the most important people in his life, but more power to him, I guess. He seems happy, and that’s what matters.
“I heard a rumor the other day,” he says, finishing his drink. He sucks on an ice cube. “You’ve been taking meetings with men associated with Mr. F, haven’t you?”
My hands stiffen, knuckles going white. It takes a lot of self-control not to glance away. Guilt rushes over me. I should have mentioned this to Stellan. He’s my Don, my boss, and my friend, and as his Capo I should run any sort of business with another crime outfit past him first. Except this shit with Fontana is personal and I don’t want Stellan getting involved.
Still, can’t lie to him.
“I have some ideas I wanted to pass through the old man.”
“Good ideas?”
“Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Stellan’s eyebrows arch. “I’m very interested in what my people are doing. Especially when it comes to men like Mr. F.”
