Page 45 of Contempt

“Ren,” John murmured.

The man held up a single hand, and the two men close to his back instantly moved further away whereas they had looked as though they might try to take Renzo on.

They were welcome to try it.

He might get some anger out breaking their faces.

Who knew?

“You’re looking well,” John said, “and yes, to your question … I have moved elsewhere.”

Renzo arched a brow, and took a drag from his smoke. “Doing what, because I heard Andino is heading the Marcellos now, right?”

“I control the old Calabrese faction in the city.”

He nodded. “Nice.”

“Suits me well.”

“I imagine.”

“How’s The League?” John asked.

Renzo stiffened, and the smoke drifted from his lips in curling tendrils toward the sky. “How the fuck do you know—”

“I have always known.”

Huh.

“It breaks you,” Renzo offered, saying nothing else.

“Yeah, I bet.” John cleared his throat. “Something you want, or what? Because as far as I know, you’ve still got a contract with The League, don’t you? Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be around this area unless it’s for a job.”

Renzo laughed. “Ah, and it is. Right you are.”

He was also concerned how or why John seemed to know so much about his business with The League, but that was a conversation for another day. He would deal with it later.

“Christian Savino,” Renzo said.

John tipped his chin up. “What about him?”

“Do you wanna tell me why you’re having meetings with a man I’ve been delegated to babysit from afar while he’s on this continent?”

“I—”

“Or why I heard him mention Lucia’s name when I know he’s also been at her place of work in California, too?”

John’s lips flattened into a grim line. “My business with Savino is just that—business. As far as Lucia, I know he brought over an art print that he needed validated, but the only one capable here was the same gallery where Lucia interns. Circumstance and coincidence, that’s all. Probably not something you should worry about, Ren.”

Yeah, but that was the thing.

Renzo didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Why the hell am I following him, then?”

John gave Renzo a shrug. “Well, I have no fucking idea. Ask your boss—whoever that is.”

“I would,” Renzo said, “if I knew my boss.”