Owned (Dellucci Mafia Duet)

Stefan raises his brow, clearly not amused by my effort to defuse the uncomfortable situation, but it’s only made things more tense. He plops both his feet onto the table, crossing them in front of me so I can stare at his boots while he adjusts his crotch. This is no way to sit for a don, and he knows. It’s exactly why he does it. To make me feel intimidated. Humiliated.

“So you’re not here to have some quality time after all …” He takes a big drag of his cigar. “Pity.”

“We already shared amazing quality time at the auction,” I quip.

He smirks again and raises his cigar. “I would enjoy another one in the future.”

“Hmm …” I nod a couple of times before looking him dead in the eye. “That’s not why I came.”

He pauses and lifts his cigar away from his mouth, staring at me with a peculiar look on his face. “You want my help.” He waves his cigar around. “Fine. Amuse me.”

“I need men and guns,” I reply.

He cocks his head. “With what money?”

As my heart begins to race, I throw a brief glance at Claudio, whose concerned eyes have me on edge.

“Yes, I know all about that fallout at the harbor. About you losing all your weapons. Your men. Your cold, hard cash.” He takes his feet off the table and slams them onto the floor, leaning over the desk as if he wants to tear my tie off my neck. “I know the destruction you’ve caused. And I know you have nothing left.”

I take a deep breath. “I still have my best men and enough supply of guns in my personal stash.”

Stefan laughs even louder than before. “Don’t play dumb with me, Marcello. I’m not a fool. You didn’t come here to play with my balls.” He tilts his head and takes another drag of his cigar. “You have one foot in your grave. Now tell me why I should help you.”

Claudio clears his throat to grab my attention and whispers something into my ear. “We cannot trust him to be serious without a good offer. He’s not going to be on our side unless he can gain something with great value.”

My nostrils flare as I nod at Claudio and turn my attention back to Stefan. “I am willing to make arrangements if you agree to help dispose of Molly and Frank, along with the Irish mob, and bring peace back to the city.”

Stefan’s face is like stone—unmoving and unemotional. And then he bursts out into more laughter.

“You think I care about that? You think I want them dead? The city safe?” He laughs again and then slams his hand onto the desk, hard. “This city is mine. People in a safe city do not buy drugs. A safe city does not have any need for guns or women.”

“There will always be a need for—”

“Do not insult me, Marcello!” he growls.

It’s silent for a few seconds while Claudio keeps eyeing me.

I sigh out loud. Fine. If it has to come to this to destroy my enemies, to finally keep Harper out of harm’s way, then so be it. “I will let you have the rest of the city, plus a part of what the Italians control.”

“Marcello!” Claudio gasps.

I throw him a wicked glance, which shuts him up.

“Keep your dog on a leash,” Stefan says.

“It won’t happen again,” I say while looking at Claudio.

This whole arrangement is far from what I was aiming for when I first became the don, but I cannot let the Irish rule this place any longer, nor can I risk Harper’s life like that. They have to be dealt with at any cost.

Even if it means our grasp over our part of the city will diminish.

But judging from the look on Stefan’s face, he doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

He leans back in his chair, stretching out his fingers before tapping them against each other in an irritating manner.

“My aid in exchange for the city plus a part of your territory?” He smiles. “Interesting.”

“I don’t want to know if it’s interesting. I want to know if we have a deal,” I reply.

His smile turns vicious as he bears his teeth. “I think …”

A lock clicks into place.

My senses are heightened, the sound like the ticking of a clock, loud as the beating of my own heart.

I glance at Stefan, then at Claudio, and then at the guard in front of the only door left unlocked.

“Not.”

The door suddenly bursts open, and the two people I only wanted to see when their skulls were crushed beneath my feet enter.

A familiar voice makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Hello, Marcello.”

Frank rolls in in a wheelchair with Molly pushing him.

So he was alive. I fucking knew it. No fucking way Molly would have remained this calm if he wasn’t. She would’ve tried to blow the roof off my house the second she found out he was dead. But they’ve been preparing for a strike together from the comfort of their home all this time.