I nod and turn to Titan. “Tell your queen I said thanks for the information.”
He nods. “Anytime.”
I pick up the suitcase when Grave speaks. “How is the wedding coming along?”
I smile at him. They know my plan. Have known for a few months. I filled them in because they can benefit from it too. “As well as predicted.”
“Ah, come on, man, she can’t hate you that much,” he jokes, but I don’t laugh because the truth is my soon-to-be wife hates me with a passion, and if I cared at all I’d call it off.
Just to clear things up, I don’t care, and the wedding is still very on.
“Aren’t all weddings like that?” Cross asks.
Titan snorts. “Fuck that shit.”
“Not like she had a choice,” my brother chimes in, still chewing on that damn toothpick.
The Kings know our life and how things work. Theirs aren’t run much differently. But where marriage gives us power, they all see it as a disadvantage. Being tied to one woman all their life would be horror. To me, it means millions in my pocket. And I don’t pass up money. Ever.
“I look forward to the engagement party.” Grave laughs.
_______________
I pull my car into my garage and turn it off, then grab the flowers out of my passenger seat that I picked up on the way home. Thankfully, my favorite place was open.
I exit my car and walk into the house. It’s quiet, and I know she’s not here. She’s on her morning run. The sun is just starting to rise. She likes to start her day off early with a run to free her mind. At least she used to. She didn’t ask me for permission, but this house isn’t a prison. She can come and go all she wants. I have guards all over it. Cameras at every corner. If she decides to leave me, she won’t get far. I don’t think she’d chance her freedom. If she did, she wouldn’t like the consequences that would follow.
Walking into one of the many kitchens, I grab a vase from underneath the sink and fill it with water before placing the flowers in it. It’s been a long time since I’ve used it. The last time was before I left her. When she used to stay here, she always made the house feel like a home. It’s been silent and empty ever since.
Making my way up to our master suite, I close the door after entering. The bed is freshly made, and the smell of her perfume hits me. I used to smell her on me for days. The way her shampoo would rub off on my shirt when she cuddled up against me. Or the way my hoodie would smell like her body wash. It always made me hard. Desperate.
She doesn’t know it, but I forced her father to hand her over to me. I’m not the kind of guy who shows weakness. My father taught my brothers and me that nothing is more important than money. And although I agree, I also feel that having a woman by your side can be beneficial to a man. Men respect a man who knows how to control a bitch. I needed her, and I needed a reason to make that happen. My father didn’t agree, but he’ll come around. He’ll see what I see in the end. And if not, well, then that’s his problem.
The moment I stepped on that plane to leave her for Italy, I started forming a plan. It was the first thing I did three months ago when I arrived back in the States. Her father owns a chain of banks here in Las Vegas, and I could use his facilities to launder money. All I had to do was make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
He sits behind his desk in his home office, his hands clenched together as he glares at me. “What you’re asking of me is illegal.”
“And what you’re doing is illegal.”
His face whitens, and sweat beads across his forehead. “I don’t know …”
“You’re running fake money through your bank. Marking it with serial numbers from real currency. Making it look like it’s being placed in the vault, but instead you’re using it to hold your head above water.”
His jaw sharpens. “You have no idea—”
“I do,” I interrupt him. “You have rats everywhere.” I smile at him. “Especially when they’re paid well.” Lie. I got this information for free. But I promised not to snitch on my source. And the Bianchis are no rats.
He slams his hand down on the desk and stands.
I stay seated because I’m about to cut him off at the knees. “I’ll make you one offer. And it will only be on the table for twenty-four hours.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t shoot me down immediately. “The board will never allow it.”