“Thanks.” I’ll nurse it, but I need to keep a clear head. Not only does Sal look like he’s planning revenge, I don’t like Donzelli’s vibe.
Whatever’s going down, Donzelli is behind it.
He pours me three fingers of the really expensive stuff, then turns to me, eyes bright with speculation. “You know, Rafael, the product we move through our trusted network is the nuts and bolts of our operation. It keeps the cash flowing and the lights on.”
He means the drugs they cook up and package in labs and safe houses in the seedier parts of town where they own the cops. “Sure. I’ve been getting familiar with that since I came on board. I’ve got a good handle on it now.”
“So I hear. Your dear, departed uncle… We were good friends.” Donzelli claps me on the back and smiles my way with the perfect hint of sympathy in his eyes.
“So he always said.”
“Just like he told me you had a real head for business. With a Harvard MBA, you should.”
I just smile. Where the fuck is he going with this? “I’m doing my best to be an asset. It’s what Uncle Luca would have wanted.”
“True. I think it’s time you and I chat about our growing side hustle. After all, this organization may be yours someday. Eventually.”
The only person standing between me and the top is Paul Carboni, Marco’s underboss—a fucking fat slob of a minion. What Paulie lacks in brains, he makes up for in ruthlessness.
“I appreciate that. If there’s a way I can help grow the business, fill me in. I’ll make it happen.”
Marco holds up his glass in toast and smiles. “You always do. Salute!”
I lift mine in kind, but my heart is fucking rattling against my ribs. Is he finally—after three fucking long years—going to cough up some useful information? I’ve been trying to pry shit out of the secretive bastard since I walked through the door. Of course, I know the basics of his growing secondary income—not that he has any clue. But the details of this hush-hush operation? No. And I need that info, like, yesterday.
“Walk with me,” he invites, setting his empty glass aside.
I leave mine untouched. “Sure.”
Sal looks ready to spit nails. I’ll definitely need to watch my back.
Donzelli leads me to his personal elevator and punches in a security code. Instead of heading up to his penthouse or down to his personal garage, we descend even farther, to the bowels of the hotel.
As the car plunges deeper into his concrete kingdom than I’ve ever gone, I shift into high alert and mentally catalog the weapons I’m carrying. Mobsters are a dangerous bunch, and there’s always a chance Donzelli has seen through me and lured me down to dust me.
Finally we reach a third-level basement. I’ve studied the schematics of the hotel, so I know the boilers and such are located on this level. But what else?
“You look surprised,” he observes as the doors whoosh open and he steps out into a shadowy, hot-as-balls area of utility and humidity.
“Yeah.”
His thin mouth lifts in a superior smile. He loves having the upper hand, so I let him enjoy it—for now.
“A few years ago, some overseas businessmen visited the property. They requested specific…escorts. They had cash and a lot of it, so I happily found exactly what they sought on the casino floor and ensured they enjoyed their evening to the fullest.”
I play dumb. “So you got them hookers?”
His laugh drips condescension. “No. Something far more coveted. Follow me. I’ll show you.”
Marco leads, and I stay on his ass. “Like what? If they paid you to provide sex partners—”
“Companions,” he corrects. “Temporary companions.”
Sure. That’s why girls disappear from this place all the time and are never seen or heard from again.
“Understood.”
He continues down a narrow hallway, past a video camera, to a door with a numbered combination. On the other side of the portal, the air is slightly cooler. But it’s still dark, and the smell of sweat and fear is so thick it’s palpable.
“Those businessmen went home and told their like-minded friends that they could find whatever diversion they desire here. As new guests arrived, we accommodated their requests. Of course, some have been more complicated than others, but we have yet to fail at providing a VIP with sublime satisfaction.”
That’s one way to describe abducting unsuspecting women and selling them to strangers for sexual pleasure.
“So now it’s a healthy line of business?”
“Thriving. I have nearly a dozen such guests arriving here tonight. I’ve already heard from one or two who would prefer to work off his jet lag in a more…active way.”
Rape must get the old blood pumping.
What fucking assholes. But I keep my opinion to myself and play nice. “How much does this sort of…entertainment cost? And what happens to the companion at the end of the arrangement?”