Vows and Vendettas

Chapter 6

Dante

Ever since I impulsively kissed Blair in the bathroom — and she kissed me back — she has done her best to avoid me like I have f*cking leprosy or something that is as equally contagious. She hurried out of the bathroom while I finished dressing, and the moment I stepped back into the bedroom, she rushed past me with a handful of clothing and locked herself inside the bathroom again.

And it's been like this all day. The second I walk into a room that she is already in, she gathers her things and leaves. She doesn’t stomp her feet or anything, but it's blatantly clear to me that our kiss this morning has rattled her a little. Now we are in this back-and-forth game that neither one of us is ready to give up. Honestly, at this point, I am invested in seeing just how long she can keep it running away.

It isn't like she has that many places that she can run to within the penthouse. My office stays locked even when I am home, and so does the guest room. I knew she would be flighty when she arrived, and giving her too many options on where to hide out from me was not going to work. She was my wife, and the sooner she really let the gravity of the notion set in, the better. Every time she runs, I give her several minutes before I pretend to have some reason to follow.

The soft patter from her feet as she tries to sneak down the hall from our room, the way she peeks around the edge into the main living area, her dark hair framing her face from where it has slipped from the knot on top of her head. Her eyes flick left, her shoulder relaxing for two seconds before she checks left. Her shoulders draw up nearly to her ears when she notices me sitting on the couch with a perfect view of the entire space.

Blair rolls her shoulders down and back and slips into the kitchen. She remains silent the entire time and refuses to even glance in my general direction again as she moves about the kitchen. She opens the cabinets and the refrigerator; she grabs a bottle of water and one of those little snack-like things that has cheese and crackers in it and closes the refrigerator door.

“Are you trying to avoid me because you kissed me back earlier?” I finally asked her before she has a chance to make another break for it.

Her gaze snaps up and lands on me, eyes narrowed, face already burning crimson all the way from her throat to her hairline. “I did not.”

Looking over the top of the newspaper in my hands, I raise a brow at her. “Yes, you did.” I look back at the print but don't even bother pretending to read the words that were printed on the page. "You're allowed to kiss your husband."

She sputters to herself as she storms out of the kitchen and back to our room with her snacks. I watch her go until she disappears. The door to our room slammed loudly a moment later, the sound ricocheting through the penthouse a moment later. I can feel my lips twitch; clearly, she was trying to tell herself that nothing had happened between us this morning. That the kiss had been nothing.

It wasn't like that. Not for me. Blair was my wife, and that kiss had only been the start.

Deciding that I had probably tormented her enough for one day, I folded the newspaper and laid it neatly on the coffee table before heading to my office down the same hall. My eyes land on the bedroom door while I fish my key from my pocket, then slip it into the lock and turn. The lock gives a satisfying click.

It’s dark as sh*t in here, I think as I step inside, letting the door shut behind me. Even without light, I know exactly where everything is — the heavy leather chairs, the shelves lined with old ledgers, the edge of the rug that had to be taped down because I had tripped over it more times than I can count when I first bought it. Muscle memory from years of traversing through the space in the dark now guides me across the room without hesitation.

Ripping the thick curtains aside, sunlight streams in through the tinted windows, enough to chase the shadows away, back into their corners. When I kissed her, I hadn’t anticipated that she would kiss me back. But she did. The way her lips felt beneath mine. The way she had frozen for half a heartbeat before her body betrayed her and softened against me. The little hitch in her breathing as she gave in.

And there was also the way she had looked across my lap this morning. The way she had squirmed in her attempts to get away and I wouldn't let her. My mind might have been playing tricks on me then, but I swear her thin shorts grew damp the second she felt me pressed against her. Christ, just the reminder of that has me readjusting myself as I make my way to my desk.

My father’s desk.

It sits in the center of the room like a monument.

Dark walnut, scarred along the edges from years of use. The surface still carries faint marks from his time behind it. I never refinished it. Never wanted to. The weight of it like this always felt right. Solid. Like the man who sat behind it before me. I settle into the comfortable, rich leather chair behind it and push all the inappropriate thoughts of this morning with Blair to the back of my mind and get to work.

I have a real shipment on its way, and I need to make sure that it arrives on schedule with no issues. I can't afford to have any more losses at this point. I carefully checked over the adjustment that had to be made to the new shipping manifest for a third time, ensuring that it was correct. I am always anal about the details, but with all that has been going on the past few weeks, it's intensified. Lazzari Imports is renowned throughout the area for the rarity of its products. It's also my pet project that I started long before I took over the family. To the world, I imported some of the finest luxury food products in the States from Italy: olive oils, truffles, specialty meats and cheeses.

All very profitable on their own. But every shipment also contained something far more valuable. This one is particularly valuable. I click through the tabs on my screen. The buyers are ready. All that's left is getting the shipment into their hands. I am completely absorbed in what I'm doing when there is a soft knock on my office door.

“Come in,” I call.

The door opens, and Cass appears in the doorway, a surly look on his face. Well, so much for things running smoothly today. By the look on his face, whatever brought him here, I am not going to like it. I set my pen down as he closes the door and steps closer.

“We found it.”

My mood darkens even more as my jaw tightens. “Where?”

“At a strip club in Riverside.”

You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me. Voss is more of a f*cking i***t than I originally gave him credit for. He was stupid to jack my shipments. He was even stupider for hiding it not only in his territory but in a f*cking strip club. Closing out of my computer and locking it, I rose and rounded the corner of my desk.

“Call in reinforcements. We are going to pay this little club a visit.”

Going in there with guns drawn and taking back what was mine was the first thing on my mind. It was mine, simple as that, and I dare anyone to stand in my f*cking way. But handling Voss was something that needed to be strategic. He expected bullets and a gunfight.

I ripped open the door to the office, and to my complete surprise, Blair stumbled forward right into my arms. Her hands caught my forearm, and my hands landed on her waist. Her breath hitched as she raised her blue eyes to mine. The briefest flicker of panic crossed her face before she looked past me to find class watching the entire scene. Blair finds her footing and brushes my hands from her body with a quick flourish.

"I was just taking my things to the kitchen," she says while taking a step back.

I smirk at her. No, she wasn't. There was nothing in her hands, and nothing on the floor like she had dropped it. She had been eavesdropping. Naughty girl.

I chose not to comment on that. We both know the truth. “Well,” I murmur, “since you’re already here, I don’t have to fight you to stop running away. I have to go out for a bit.”

Blair's eyes flicked between Cass and me this time with questions. “When will you return?” Is what she settled on.

“As soon as I can. Rocco will remain close by until I do. He has a key too and one to the spare room in case it takes longer.”

I pushed past her without saying goodbye and grabbed my things from beside the door. I don't have time to explain all the details to her just yet. Plus, I highly doubt she would believe a single word I said right now when it comes to Voss. But I can feel her eyes boring into my back as I step out into the hallway.

By the time Cass and I made it downstairs to the parking garage, the SUV was already waiting. The overhead lights buzz faintly, casting long shadows across the concrete. Matteo and Rico stood beside it, their expressions hard as stone, arms crossed, backs straight.

“Tell me what you know,” I ordered as we all piled into the car.

“It's not a lot. The tech team was only able to track it down because someone posted a photo online. You can clearly see it in the background." Cass grunts while passing me his phone with a picture already pulled up. "Either Voss hasn't informed those under him where it came from, so they didn't know not to share images publicly with it, or he is setting up some kind of trap, and we are about to walk right into it.”

It's a typical social media post. Guys who look to be in their early twenties at best grin at the camera while women in revealing outfits sit perched on their laps with tight-lipped smiles. And in the corner of the picture, half-cut off from the angle it was taken, is what we have been looking for. I knew Voss was responsible thanks to his goon, but we hadn't been able to find any sign of where he had hidden it or what his plan was going forward.

The car eventually rolls to a stop in Riverside. It's still early; the sun hasn't yet started to dip into the horizon, so the parking lot looks deserted except for a handful of old, beat-up cars near the back entrance. The dancers.

“Let's go see what this sh*t hole has to offer,” I say, opening the door and stepping out.

The smell hits me first — it's a mix of garbage, stale beer, and something sharp like ammonia. It’s the kind of stench that clings to the back of your throat no matter how far away you get from it. F*ck, maybe that's the reason no one is here. You can have the hottest dancers in the entire state, but no one’s stepping foot near a place that smells like a dumpster behind a gas station.

“Che diavolo è quello?” Matteo gags, covering his mouth with his hand.

What the f*ck is that?

Rico jabs Matteo in the ribs with his elbow... hard, causing him to grunt and draw in another mouthful of the stench.

“Oh, man up, Rossi. You've smelt worse in a graveyard.”

“F*ck you, Rico. Don't remind me of that night,” Matteo snaps, shoving Rico away. "It took a week to wash the stench from my clothes."

I groan. It's like f*cking dealing with a group of kindergartners… all the f*cking time.

“Knock it off,” I murmur. “We are here for a reason.”

Everyone cuts the bulls*t as we approach the entrance of the club. The stench is stronger the closer you get to the front door. The second we walk inside, all eyes are on us. Gone is the garbage and urine scent. Now it's cheap perfume and the tang of s*x. The lighting is dim, tinted red in a way that makes everything look tired.

The floor actually is sticky; my shoes catch with every step, pulling at the soles like the place is trying to keep us here. The stage at the far end is small and poorly lit, the velvet curtain hanging unevenly, one side drooping lower than the other. Everything about the place screams neglect.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." The hostess rounds the corner too quickly, one heel catching beneath her. She pitches sideways, and Rico catches her by the elbow before she hits the ground. Color floods her cheeks as she straightens, brushing her hair back with a shaky hand. “Sorry—floor’s a little… temperamental.” She forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Right this way.”

She snatches the cleanest-looking bottle menu from the counter — which isn’t saying much — and gestures stiffly for us to follow. She leads us through the dim bar area toward a table closest to the stage, her steps careful at first, then overly confident, hips swaying like she’s trying to pretend the stumble never happened.

As we take our seats, Cass's hand slips inside his coat. Reaching for his weapon on the off chance that Luca Voss comes storming out from the back. I highly doubt that happens. Though this is his place, it doesn't give me the impression that he spends much time here. The speakers crackle and scream a second later. The sound system is clearly lacking and should have been replaced long ago. The curtain opens, one side catching half through as a young woman walks out onto the stage. She is young, and by the way her hands tremble when she grabs hold of the stripper pole in front of her and begins to dance grabs my attention. She can't be more than nineteen. She screams, new to the industry and clearly lacks the skills to be a seductive dancer.

Cass nudges me under the table and leans in. "What's the plan now?”

I don't answer right away as I let my eyes drift from the nervous young woman to the rest of the dilapidated club. There is a plethora of ways that I can bring Voss down. With one call, I can have this place and probably any others that he has shut down. But that would just be too damn easy. And where was the fun in easy?

Tipping my chin in the direction of the stage again as the woman arches her back in what was supposed to be seduction but looked as if she was on the verge of having a seizure. “Her.”

Cass looks back to the stage, his brows creasing. “She’s young enough that Voss won't see her as a threat.”

I nodded, a smile forming on my lips because he knew exactly what I was going for, just like always. Perks of working together for as long as we have. “You can handle that,” I say as soon as her dance is over. Cass rises, moving to intercept her at the bar when she emerges from backstage again. These women probably haven't had a decent night in this place, and then we walk in all of a sudden. All they can see now is a payday, and a hefty one at that.

“Matteo, Rico, go see if they have something extra special in the back,” I smirk slightly, already knowing what they will return with.

They all do as instructed, and I am the only one left at the table. I find the tiny little red light from the security camera that is perched high in the far corner of the room. There is a very real possibility that it's a fake, but on the off chance that it isn't, I smile.

Another five minutes goes by before the guys finally return. Cass with the blushing young dancer on his arm. Her cheeks bright red as he whispers something in her ear that makes a giggle slip from her throat. And Rico and Matteo with a familiar-looking bottle that has absolutely no business being in a dump like this.