Page 51 of Marry Me Not
Music poundedoutside the main office. The sound-dampening material Rom had installed inside the walls of Black Silk only partially muffled it.
“I’ve sent the stills from the security cameras at the cemetery around town,” Rom said, propping his feet up on the table. “No hits on the biker yet. One photo got his profile, but it’s too blurry to really see anything. Most of the time, he’s either got his helmet on or his hood up, and he’s looking away from the cameras the entire time, which means he knew where they were.”
So he’d come prepared.
I scrubbed my palm against my jaw. Showing up at the graveside was a daring move. If that biker was a Santoro, he’d put himself within range of a few dozen armed men who would’ve been happy to dump him in the ground beside Dad. At first, I’d thought it was some kind of reckless gamble on his part, but no. He’d known exactly what he was doing.
Alessio scratched a bandage on his forearm. “Have you checked the traffic cams?”
“Yeah. We got a partial plate, but we’re still running it through the system.” Rom frowned and reached for his Coke. “I thought we’d have more by now, to be honest.”
“It’s only been a week,” Les said, peeling at the label on his beer.
“Week and a half,” Rom corrected. “The longer we have nothing, the colder the trail will get.”
My gaze drifted toward the rows of security monitors mounted on the wall. Rom had this entire place covered, including the VIP booth where Fabiana and her friends were currently getting shit-faced.
“We could get the capos involved,” Rom said. “Cast a wider net.”
Annoyance pulsed at my temples as I watched Fabi knock back another shot. Hadn’t she had enough by now? I’d counted five already. She and her friends were in the middle of a drinking game where she appeared to be doing ridiculous dares and taking a shot whether she completed them or not.
I’d watched her slip behind the bar and lean in too close to some long-haired bartender who’d held her gaze a second too long. He was unaware that tonight was his last shift.
I’d watched her talk a bunch of men into autographing her arm, every one of them far too pleased about it, and wondered why Messero’s bodyguards hadn’t knocked their teeth down their throats.
I’d even watched her climb into one of the cages hanging from the ceiling and put on a gyrating little show that made my cock ache and my mood turn foul.
Needless to say, I was on edge. My innocent Nettle turned into a fucking menace the second tequila hit her bloodstream.
“Earth to Cosimo. Are we having a conversation, or are you too distracted creeping on your fiancée?”
I tore my gaze from the screen. I wasn’t creeping on her. I was monitoring the goddamn situation. “We can’t involve the capos. If we do, it’ll get back to Vita. She already claims to know more than us, so the last thing I want is to give her insight into our investigation.”
“The capos are getting restless,” Alessio said, finishing the last of his beer. “They’ve got an itch that’ll only be scratched by vengeance.”
“I told them they need to stay focused on keeping the business running,” I muttered. They’d keep doing what they were told as long as they still believed me to be the next don. “The wedding should help with morale.”
“It will,” Rom said. “And it’ll send a message. Not just to our family, but to everyone watching—political contacts, business partners, the media.”
On the monitor, I saw Fabiana had just pulled another card from the stupid hat of dares I wanted to throw in the trash.
“You should take Fabiana out a few times in the next few weeks,” Rom was saying. “Somewhere public. Reinforce the alliance.”
I squinted at the screen. What now? Judging by her expression—and the way she was shaking the card at her friends in that tiny, furious fist—she was not pleased with whatever was written on it.
“Cosimo, seriously?”
I focused back on Rom. “Just taking a quick look.”
“You’ve been taking quick looks for the last two hours,” Alessio said.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Since you’ve suddenly developed ADHD, why don’t we just turn it off?” Rom reached for the remote on the table.
I snatched it before he could. Rom arched a brow.
My jaw clenched. “All of your suggestions depend on Fabiana actually making it to the wedding. Given her current state, I’m not confident she will. Look at her. She’s wasted. Someone’s got to keep an eye on her.”
