VOLKO

Chapter Twenty-Two

Later that night I sat around the same grand dining table I had the day we arrived, this time with my own bottle of alcohol free wine I'd picked out today. Marco's determination to find the perfect wine for me had been far easier than either of us had anticipated once the alcohol was gone.

Although Marco had described it as nothing more than grape juice, I knew he'd said it with fondness in his voice. He'd spent the remainder of the day teasing me about it.

Even as we sat eating our evening meal he smirked each time I took a sip, and I toasted straight back at him. The whole thing had become a private joke, one Jake didn't understand or enjoy.

To elevate the strain, I attempted to explain the story to him. Sadly, that only appeared to make matters worse when we began to laugh telling it.

So Jake was now not talking to me again, Marco however provided all the company I needed. Especially whilst the others talked more business.

"I heard through the grapevine that you let go of Jordan Mortel, without a scratch on him." Mario said in English to my surprise.

The notion that they'd spoken business in only Italian had raised an alarm bell or two. Perhaps Mario did it just to piss Robert off, that's what I'd been telling myself. Yet every now and then a more sinister idea popped up.

Then again, one glance at Marco's sweet nature's handsome face and I knew I was letting my imagination run away with me.

"He didn't know anything." Dean replied bluntly, cutting the conversation off.

Mario had other ideas. "And you knew that without touching him? In my experience, most men don't tell the truth without a bit of persuasion." Mario's decision to keep the topic didn't go unnoticed.

Robert looked to Dean for guidance. Dean gritted his teeth, then allowed a tight smile to show.

Marco was asking me something, however I actively ignored him. His attempts to get my attention were in vain, as I watched the interaction between the two men.

"Let's discuss the matter tomorrow before we leave." Dean offered.

"I just want to know how you knew he was telling the truth. What makes you so certain he is clean?" Mario pushed.

At this point Marco even stopped trying to distract me. Who was Jordan Mortel and what did Mario mean about Dean touching him? That alarm bell I kept pushing down, flashed bright red.

"Because that's what I get paid to do, and I do well. You will find no dirt on him, I can assure you of that. And if you do, well, I'll give you everything I own." Dean's tone oozed arrogance. His words left no room for argument. But a lot of room for questions.

Jake's words came back to me about Dean not being head of security. He said his job was more vague. Had Dean hurt this Jordan in some way? No, Mario was annoyed that he hadn't. Did that make Mario the bad guy?

How could he be? Mario and his family were fair, welcoming and nice.

Mario laughed, completely changing the atmosphere and look on his face back to a loveable grandad rather than an enraged mob boss.

Come to think of it Mario was very mob boss style, he always wore what looked like expensive suits. Not being a very materialistic person I wouldn't actually know if they were. And his hair shone with thin lines where the comb had gone through. The guy was partially to a gold ring or five.

"I like you Dean. I must talk to the Russians about hiring you myself."

"Dean isn't for sale." Robert snapped.