. . .
Dante Valentino
I had said I wouldn't call her, so I didn't.
I drove my car near Elliot's ship near sunrise, and true to her word - Lily Jenkins didn't show me her pretty face. I was not surprised. She had a strong will - something I admired about her.
So I watched the sunrise. It took me back to the sunrise I had watched years ago, battered and bruised with the flames of Igor's burning mansion burning us from behind. Yet the sun had been beautiful, no amount of pain could have convinced me otherwise.
I drove back to the hotel after about half an hour. As much as I liked being close to her, even when I couldn't see her, I had important things to do - things that were important for Blue's safety.
I walked into the hotel and glanced at where he was.
Samuel Creed.
He was standing at the corner of the lobby, a can in his large hand. He gulped whatever it was down and then stepped closer to me, a grin taking over his face. He was a few inches shorter than me. Not enough for that to be an advantage for me. I had never fought him. But I had seen him fight.
I smirked in return. "Last day," I said. "After the finals."
He nodded, crushing the can in his hand. "I will see you then, Dante."
"I suppose you know where Lily is." I put my hands in the pockets of my trousers.
"I do." His grin took an ugly turn. "I am not after her," he said. "You know who are."
Of course.
"You will have to kill them if you wish to keep her safe."
"Well then, you should start training one of your cousins to become the Capo."
He snarled. "I always knew you were rotten."
"Don't point fingers when you reek of blood." I looked at the splatter of blood on his neck and the white collar of his suit. I preferred to clean up soon after I was done. Samuel had always been a bit...messy.
I turned and walked to the elevator, pushing down the urge to call her.
. . .
I crushed another cigarette in my palm. A wound had formed, yet I could barely feel the pain. I lifted my eyes from the file I had been reading as the elevator door opened and Leyla walked in, her eyes glued to her phone - miraculously not dressed in a completely red outfit.
I returned my gaze to the file and felt her freeze as she looked at me. Things were unpleasant between us, especially after how I had accused her of hurting Blue. I didn't know what I had been thinking.
"Hi," she said hesitantly. "Where is Gio?"
"He is still sleeping." I nodded towards Giovanni's room. I wasn't aware that she'd be joining us in Australia. But she'd be safe in the hotel.
"Okay." Her voice was quiet.
She entered Giovanni's room after a gentle knock that he didn't respond to. I walked into my room, knowing the walls would be rattling soon enough.
As much as I wanted to loathe my brothers for choosing a woman over duty, I couldn't.
Not when with every passing second I was close to doing the same.
. . .
"She is still hurt by what you said," Giovanni said in Italian later that day as we drove to the arena.
"Why don't you fuck it out of her?" I muttered, hand on the steering wheel.
"Watch it," he growled and then smirked. "At least I am getting some."
"Shut the fuck up."
As we neared the arena, it was obvious there had been another fight. I hadn't been lying when I said that the spectators died more than the fighters. People who were new to the game always lost their cool. For people like my brother and me, watching crime lord wannabes was half the entertainment.
I got out of the car, watching as a man shot at about six men who looked to be Russian but didn't seem to be from Bratva. Alexi's men were controlled like dogs. I leaned against my car. This was perhaps another bet gone wrong.
The man ducked behind a car, sweat lining his forehead. He looked to be on drugs. He quickly reloaded his gun.
And then his brain was splattered on the car.
My gaze shifted to Zavier Creed, who had just exited a Buggati, and Olivia was right beside him, watching everything with large eyes.
Zavier looked at me and then at Giovanni. He tucked Olivia behind him, but the woman got on the tip of her toes and watched us from over his shoulder.
"You!" Zavier pointed his gun at the other men. "Get the fuck away from here."
The man dispersed soon, stumbling to get away.
I pocketed my gun, which I didn't even know I had pulled out.
Zavier walked inside the arena with Olivia, who had finally stopped looking at us, especially Giovanni.
I looked at my brother. "She is not Carla." He had found some sort of bond with Olivia in the past, treating her as if she were his sister. It didn't make sense to me, but it had comforted him back then.
"Shut the fuck up," he muttered. "I didn't know she'd be here. Don't tell Leyla she's here."
I shrugged. I'd keep it a secret, but Giovanni couldn't keep shit from Leyla. She'd have the truth out of him in seconds.
We watched the fight. This was between another Russian and one of our fighters, Mauro. This one was a delight to watch, as the men appeared to be equal in strength. I sipped my whiskey, barely feeling it when Carlina lowered herself onto the couch beside me.
I glanced at her. She looked timid as she watched the fight and then eventually lowered her eyes to the ground, avoiding looking at Luca, who was staring at her from across the arena, where he was sitting with his brothers and some other business associates.
I shook my head. He couldn't make his interest more obvious even if he tried.
The fight ended with Mauro's throat getting slashed by a knife the Russian had somehow sneaked in. Mauro wasn't our best, but he fought well.
"I want to fight," Giovanni muttered, swirling his scotch around his glass in the darkness of the arena. "Do you think Alexi would fight me?"
"Why do you want to fight Alexi?"
"He's a smug little shit." I glanced at Alexi, who was sitting with his sister, Alisa Sokolov, Nikolai, and the Creeds, minus Xerxes.
"You just want a good opponent," I said. "Pick one of the fighters, perhaps the Russian guy." I nodded toward the blood-covered guy who was walking out of the cage.
"I have all his tells already," Giovanni drawled. "All his punches seemed to be in a specific rhythm. The fucker was dancing in there and now I know all the steps." He gulped his scotch down. "I want to fight one of them." He nodded towards the Creeds.
"You know what," I said. "Fuck off to Italy and send Fabiano here. You're only going to cause problems."
"You started these problems."
I shrugged. Guilty as charged.
. . .
Ima sleep now. Good night.
