Love Me Red ✔️

A Strip Show?

12

Kieran left for the centre city after the meeting. A renowned French celebrity died in one of the clubs they provided cover to and to avoid the police investigation and legal ruckus, he had to intervene. The police chief and some deep links tackled the matter before an insider could spill the real details out to any gumshoe. Bribes and threats were enough to douse their spirits. It took an hour for things to get back on track and now he was driving back to the countryside when his phone rang. He plugged an earphone in his ear and swiped to take the call.

"Justo, sottocapo," The man from the line introduced. Kieran only listened, steering the wheels. "There's a second-hand information out concerning consigliere Devine,"

"Black Watch," Kieran said and the line went silent, eventually the call dropped.

It was a code to tell his phone was being tapped by his father's men so they couldn't share sensitive information here. In an hour, he reached home and called for Justo in his wing. He only discussed sensitive matters in his wing's office where many devices were installed to undo the unseen or unheard.

Justo knocked on the door. Kieran pressed the button under his table and the door opened for him. "Capo."

"What is it?" Kieran spared him his undivided attention.

"It's about Greene's girl." Justo disclosed and Kieran literally felt his spine erecting like a rock. The uncertainty washed over him but he nodded gravely. "Brother Mando reported Consigliere wasn't cool about the meeting. He said something like Greene paying for his audacity. Tonight his man's going to manhandle the girl and record her nudes to leak in the outfit," Justo parroted.

The room fell silent as a dark storm overtook the walls. Justo sensed it, the air turning cold and menacing but he was oblivious to what had caused it. But when he shot an eye at the boss, his feet froze in place. The demon inside his boss had overtaken his ever-calm demeanour. His eyes were closed, jaw clenched and breathing a little heavy.

"Who's that man?" Kieran husked out, cracking his neck, grinding his teeth like a fucking bull reloading his muscles to rip a man apart. A rush of fury was whirling inside him. The veins of his arms popped out as he fisted. There were only a handful of times—like this one—when the underboss' inner turbulences would betray his self-control and lay bare to eyes.

"Santo, served in Portland for seven years, now serving as consi..." Kieran slammed his hand on the table and opened his eyes. By the time they locked on Justo's face, they were bloodshot, greedily lusty for those fuckers' bloodbath who even dare to think about her this way. Men who worked for this boss were highly aware of the kill machine's capabilities.

"Leave," Kieran commanded while a boring hole in the ground, his fists flexing and pumping over and over again.

Justo swallowed, pulled in a shaky breath and nodded.

"Si, sottocapo,"

****

Kieran had his special men scattered across the ballroom while he was supervising the hall from the top floor—from where no one could see him. He had been here before even the party began. Two hours passed and people started coming in and out. The party had kicked up but she didn't appear until now. An hour later, his eyes caught her emerging inside the hall with her friend. The one he failed to comprehend, how were they even friends?

He watched that blonde slut showering flying kisses on a group of girls who apparently had the same dressing sense as her. Their depth of cleavage was the perfect to attract men's attention. His eyes went to the group and immediately rolled back in his head. Of course, she was friends with the whores of the syndicate.