Page 103 of Forsaking All Others

I focused on work to take my mind off everything else, digging deeper into Bill’s dirty financial dealings and finding, thanks to the overheard conversation at the Edge Foundation Event, that he was using the Bratva’s online gambling platform to launder his stolen profits. It gave me a frisson of excitement to uncover the deception. Dario and Luca’s trickery had shaken the foundation of who I was and what I believed I was good at. It felt life affirming to know I could still piece together a puzzle and find answers, even if they weren’t the ones I so desperately sought.

A new email inquiry came in through the heavily secured darknet website where I hosted the Oracle’s intake form.

Orpheus: I have become aware of your services through a mutual acquaintance, Lando Ferretti. He told me you helped ferret out an issue with their casino, and I need assistance vetting some people in my organization I feel are working against me. Can we set a time for an in-person meet?

There was an entire process of online vetting done mostly by Finn and Stefan before I agreed to a face-to-face meeting as the Oracle, but it was always a good sign when an inquiry referenced a previous client.

I forwarded it to Finn and replied that I would be in touch shortly.

A creak from the hall jerked my attention toward the door, and a moment later Luca pushed inside as if he owned the place.

Which, in essence, he did.

I glared at him. “This is my space, I’d appreciate it if you at least knocked.”

He raised a brow and knocked on the inside of the wood.

I huffed. “You’re not cute, and you’re definitely not clever. If you aren’t here to tell me what’s going on, don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

A little curl to the edge of his mouth affected me as powerfully as a full-on grin. “You are enough of each for the both of us, I think.”

“The cops called again, but they didn’t seem concerned about my ‘false alarm,’” I said as he closed the door and strolled toward the end of the bed, bracing his hands on the footboard to stare down at me. Suddenly, being splayed across the covers seemed too intimate, so I casually sat up.

“No,” he agreed. “Although it helps when you own some of the most influential officers in the force.”

“Of course,” I said dryly.

“The Family is stable. Dario’s—my—day of being incognito has been explained away, and all is well on the home front. I spoke with some associates who caught wind of the chaos and assured them everything was business as usual.”

“Everything is far from all right. Dario is somewhere without an ear and two fingers. Are you ready to tell me everything?” I demanded, tipping my chin up pugnaciously.

A flicker of a smile before he smoothed it away with a hand across his stubble. “Everything is a lot.”

“Good thing it’s a Saturday and I have time.”

He pursed his mouth and nodded before sitting on the bed beside me.

“No, let’s sit at the table,” I said, already up and moving to the little red-veined marble table by the windows.

I didn’t need the distraction of Luca’s big body beside me in the same sheets we’d fucked in just hours before. Even the roasted-spice and sweet-maple scent of him as he silently crossed by my side to take the opposite seat was enough to make me clench my thighs. I could still feel the weight and heft of him like a phantom ache inside me. My anger only seemed to provoke my arousal, a verisimilitude that didn’t bear dwelling on.

“Where is Dario?” I started with a heavy hitter, looking Luca straight in the eye to dare him to prevaricate.

He didn’t sit the way Dario might have, loose and easy in his big body, a king in his throne. Instead, his posture was ramrod straight, a soldier at attention, his big hands, scarred slightly at the knuckles I noticed in the bright morning light spilling through the windows, were on the table between us, curled into fists the size of two hams.

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “Cesare is dedicating himself to the task. So far, we know he booked himself a flight through—”

“O’Hare International with Lufthansa to Palermo,” I finished impatiently. “Which doesn’t make sense when we have two planes at his disposal.”

“He told Cesare they were doing unexpected maintenance on the one at the private airfield and he wanted it on record he was going to visit the Sicilians, hence the commercial flight.”

“Why did he need it on record?” I asked.

Luca stared down at his hands. “Things with the Sicilians have been . . . tense since your father died.”

I blinked. “What? I thought Felipe was a good capo with a working relationship with Dario.”

“At first,” he allowed. “When things were still in chaos from the shooting at your wedding. But when the shooter was never caught and the bodies were long buried, resentment rose up again. Felipe is an old man, a tired man, and there are others in the Cosa Nostra who do not like that they have taken a back seat to Chicago.”