the devil wears a suit and tie • billy russo

chapter 8

The months following the wedding were good for Mr. and Mrs. Russo—actually good was a bit of an understatement, they were fucking fantastic. Thanks to their booming business, and some leftover cash from the Kandahar deal, they were finally able treat themselves to the luxuries they craved.

First, they bought their dream apartment. Soundproofed walls and everything. The extraordinary view of the city didn't hurt either.

"I think we should take the day off," Isabella mumbled into his chest, not wanting to leave the sanctity of their plush new bed. "We're the bosses, we can do whatever we want."

"You can take the day off," he said while running his fingers through her hair, absentmindedly easing out all the little knots and tangles, "but I have work that needs to get done."

She shut her eyes as she listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart, not ever wanting to move from that spot, "Just do it from home, it's not like you have any meetings today."

"If I stay home with you, nothing's getting done," he chuckled.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it's supposed to mean."

"Perv," she smirked, "maybe I want to have a quiet day at home because we just moved in yesterday? Stay in bed until eleven, make a nice brunch—pancakes, eggs, bacon. The whole lot, then we can watch stupid movies, doordash takeout for dinner..."

"It sounds like you have this all planned out."

"All you have to do is say yes."

"I can't," He kissed her forehead and slowly started to get up, "I have a new class of recruits coming through today and I have to be there for the selection process. You should be there too, you always have a good eye for that kind of stuff."

"Only if you promise that we can at least do movies and takeout tonight."

"I promise."

"Okay," she sat up, "but this weekend we're doing absolutely nothing."

"I have no problem with that."

And so they got ready for work together like they always did. In reality, Isabella didn't actually mind going into the office much. Even if she didn't the time to relax that she so desired, she was still spending the whole day with her husband, and she enjoyed the process of selecting new hires. Building teams, working out strengths and weaknesses, determining if someone had the right demeanor to work for them—it all came to her naturally, and she finally felt like she had found the right career. Analyzing people was where she had the most fun, and making a fortune while doing so wasn't too shabby.

Finally, they went down to the garage. Isabella eyed their old sedan with the tiniest bit of contempt. They were above that now. They deserved better. "I think it's time we get new cars," she remarked.

Billy raised his eyebrows, "We just bought an apartment."

"I think the rainy day fund could spare half a million or so to spend on cars," she smirked. Their "rainy day fund" was really their "fleeing the country in case we get caught for the Kandahar stuff money". It was the millions of dollars Isabella had in offshore accounts courtesy of her godfather. Somehow the government hadn't seized it, but she supposed her mom probably had something to do with it. She wasn't complaining. The money had been reserved for emergencies and retirement only, but occasionally she would withdraw a little. After all, the yearly interest she earned on it was easily enough to buy two luxury vehicles. "I'm gonna surprise you with something I think you'll like."

"You don't have to do that..." he hated it when Iz spent money on him. The whole reason he started his company was so she wouldn't have to do it.

"It's my treat," she smiled, "Consider it my gift to you for working so hard and being so successful. Besides, I want a new car for myself, so it's only fair."