Wicked Games (Bishop Mafia Series 1)

Chapter 8

Dean would kill her. Without a thought. She rested her hand on the seat for balance as the boat picked up speed. This was a strange meeting. She hadn't even informed her father or brother. Leila looked at the man with the gold skull earring, in front of her, as he drove the boat.

If any of the Crew knew, she was sure she would become fish food, pieces of her body floating on the sea she was travelling on now. Leila drew in a deep breath and watched the water wake behind them. Her decision had been fast. The moment, Gold Skull, as she called him called her, Leila knew this was an opportunity she could not miss. After all, it was about Dean.

Her blood boiled. Countless nights, she had let Dean fuck her, giving him as much as he wanted from her. There was never a moment, she had hadn't imagine herself as his wife, bearing his name, his ring, his power and his heart. Dean only took. He never gave. Nothing. He left her empty each they time they slept together. There was nothing, Leila hadn't tried to gain his heart. She went so much as to get any deal he wanted. Her father was weak and her brother even more. But not her. She was born for a reason. For Dean. Until that mongrel came into the picture. Still, she was riding on treacherous waves. She had no idea what would come out of this meeting. And if Dean came to know... Leila hugged herself and rubber her arms. She wasn't sure whether it was the weather or the thought of Dean killing her for what she was about to do, that sent that chill down her spine.

Was it her fault? Like they said, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

And what could she make of the meeting that was about to happen. The Triglias had been cast out of society at least by the hundred who knew and feared the Bishops. Nobody dared to cross The Family. Those who did ended up six feet under or were never heard from again.

The house was coming into view. The old Triglia house. She had heard of it. It looked old, one that was trying to stand the test of the time. Like the family that owns it now, trying to get their feet into society again.

Gold Skull man helped her out of the boat and they walked down the dock. There were men stationed along both sides, machine guns in their hands. The Triglias didn't waste any effort in their security. Though not as sophisticated as the Bishops, she reckoned, the Triglias would be able to put up a fight. If the news had served her right, Michel had been gathering help from Greece. What help she wasn't sure. But the rumors said, he was gathering elite soldiers who would do anything if you passed them the dough.

"Leila."

She stopped. Recognizing who it was that was standing before her.

"Michel."

His eyes, she noted, were a dark brown. He had grown tanner than from the years she had known him. He was almost the Silvioe height as Dean. His dark wavy hair was combed backwards and the beard was a nice elegant touch. Where Dean was animalistic in charm, Michel was cool and almost laid back.

"Welcome to our estate." He held out his hand.

She met his eyes but didn't take his hand yet. Shaking that hand meant she was in agreement off what he wanted. "Its good to have your house back. How's your father?"

Michel watched her coolly. Smiled. She didn't shake his hand. Leila was apprehensive. Her desire for Dean had gotten the better of her. But she wasn't about to just be friends and do it. He would have to convince her. Or dispose of her.

"Come," his arm stretched towards the house.

"Where's your father?" She was curious about Tino. The man, the reason why the two Families had been at war.

"He's with my nephew."

"I'm sorry about, Renzo." Leila said though she wasn't really sorry.

Michel smirked. "I'm most certain your concern for my brother or my family is short-lived."

"Then tell me, why am I here."

"You want Dean and I want Elena." Michel stopped and faced her. "That's something you and I have in common."

Leila didn't respond but she followed him, walking across the gravel path that led to the main entrance of the house. Inside, the carpet was a dark purple. Pictures of the ancient Triglias hung on both walls. A younger version of Tino hung beside his forefathers.

Opening a door, Michel took her into a room. She noted it was where he worked. The lion's den. A laptop and stationery were the only things on that office desk. Nothing fancy like the one Dean had. She mentally chided herself for making that comparisons. Yet, she couldn't help herself. Dean and Michel were peas of the Silvioe pod, yet they were so different. The only common thread between the two men was, Elena. Leila's jaw tightened when she remembered Elena. What was it about that woman that had men wanting her, even killing for her?

Michel pulled up a chair and she took her seat. She watched him sit behind the desk. He was smiling at her. His lips were full. And he watched her like a raven.

"You can relax, Leila. I'm not going to kill you."

He had almost laughed out those words.

"If you wanted to kill me, your spy could have done so. Instead, I'm sitting here, in your house, talking."

His grin grew wider. "It's no wonder, you have worked for the Bishops and pulled in lucrative deals for them."

Leila remained cool. "Why don't we cut to the chase? What do you want from me, Michel?"

"It would seem," Michel leaned back into his chair. "You are upset over Dean and Elena's upcoming wedding."

Her heart beat faster. He knew more than she thought. "I've been with Dean for..."

"Four years," Michel cut her. "And twenty-three days."

"I'm devoted to him."

"Does he fuck you that good?"

Crossing her legs, she relaxed back in the chair. "I have no lack. No woman has complained about spending time in Dean's bed." Leila had never been shy about her being with Dean.

"Noted." He admired a woman who was confident of herself and wasn't afraid to show it. "Yet, he wants Elena. And Elena doesn't want him. But you," he pointed his index finger at her. "You want him."

"Where are we getting with this, Michel? Why ask and speak of what you already know?"

He smiled at her question. Twirling a marble paper weight, he watched it spin and roll towards the edge of the table. Leila watched too.

"If I told you, I have a plan that will stop Elena from marrying Dean, what are you willing to do for it?"

Leila leaned forward. With a firm voice, she answered, "Everything."