2
Rafael
It wasn’t the first time I’d been toIndulgence,though it had still been under Matteo’s father’s management then. After his father’s untimely demise, Matteo renovated and brought the club into the modern era with clean and modern lines that reminded me of my own clubs in Ibiza.
Only the best of timeless elegance for our houses of endless sin.
A man I’d never met before headed us off before we could make our way up the winding steps to the offices, stepping into our path with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re here to see Lorenzo Vescovi,” I said, knowing from our conversations that the name would aggravate Enzo to no end.
“He’s busy,” the man said shortly. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” He glanced toward Calix and the two silent bodyguards at our backs, and I smirked at the reinforcement of my earlier statement. In our business, appearances mattered. One either needed to be a stone-cold man in a suit who tolerated no shit, or a meathead with tattoos covering all visible skin, if he wanted to intimidate the locals.
Sometimes both.
“Enzo will want to see us. This is Calix Regas, and I am Rafael Ibarra,” I said, watching as recognition settled over the man’s features. He nodded dutifully, turning on his heel and guiding us up the steps and past the VIP area. Up another flight of stairs, and we came to the offices on the top level of the converted warehouse that housed Matteo’s favorite nightclub.
The door of the first office stood ajar, and our guide lurked in the open door. “Yeah?” a male voice asked from within. Having had enough phone conversations with Enzo to coordinate our assistance, there was no doubt in my mind that he was the voice’s owner.
“Rafael Ibarra and Calix Regas are here—” His voice cut off as Calix and I shouldered our way into the office. Santiago and Nikolaus lurked in the hallway behind us, standing guard without getting in the way. They’d make themselves known at the first sign of trouble, but they relaxed in the moments where we were as safe as possible with allies.
“The polite thing to do is wait for me to invite you in,” Enzo said, a grin teasing his mouth. His gaze moved to Calix and he nodded his greeting, reminding me that the two men had met several times when I sent Calix to represent me in business dealings, when I couldn’t be bothered to come stateside. A dark smile played at my lips when his attention came back to me, and he blinked at the shock of mismatched eyes that often drew attention to my face and worked to camouflage the devil that lurked within.
“Enzo,” I greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake.
He grasped my hand, returning the gesture with a polite smile. “Can I get you anything?”
“What about me?” Calix grinned, moving to the whiskey on Enzo’s desk and helping himself to a drink. “Fuck, I forgot what a bitch that flight is.”
“You’re early,” Enzo said, smiling at Calix indulgently.
“Ah well, you know how it goes. My timeline has moved up. I need Matteo’s war to finish so he can help me with mine,” Calix said, not showing the slightest bit of remorse as he shrugged off potential loss of life. He’d become a man watching me act ruthlessly in my father’s name, until the day came when I ended his tyranny and became ruthless because I wanted to be. Death was simply part of life.
He’d worked and trained every day since his banishment, and when the time came, Calix would take back what was his.
All of it.
“They set a date?” Enzo asked.
Calix nodded grimly, his nostrils flaring as he sipped the whiskey and set the glass down with a sharp thud.
I nodded, glancing at Calix. “We have less time than we expected.”
“Your father will still lend his support for both of our wars? What does he expect in return?” Enzo asked as he sat. I grinned at him, exchanging a knowing glance with Calix.
“Matteo did not tell you? My father is dead. I am the Ibarra legacy now.” I dared him to ask the question that hovered at the forefront of his mind.
“Was he…sick?” he asked as I studied him.
“Did Matteo ever tell you the story of how my mother died?” I asked instead of answering. I strolled around the office and eyed the names on the wall where Enzo coordinated his security team. “My father belonged in the Spanish Inquisition. He was, for lack of a better word, insane with his beliefs. His marriage to my mother was arranged, but he hated her because he thought her light eyes and heterochromia traits of her ‘witchcraft.’” I scoffed. “So naturally, he had her burned at the stake once she stopped being useful, and he determined her to be barren when she never gave him another child after me.”
“Christ,” Enzo muttered, scrubbing a palm over his face. I’d seen and done plenty of evil in my life, but nothing would ever top watching my mother burn alive.
“I was seven at the time. I never forgot the sounds of her screams. I sleep much better now that my dreams are filled with his instead.” Calix chuckled at my words, tipping his lips up comically in a move that was quite unlike my usually somber companion.
To be fair, he’d done his fair share of drinking on the plane after we departed Spain. The whiskey in his hand only exacerbated the situation, and I watched as he gave Enzo jazz fingers, his mouth making a whooshing sound to indicate I’d burned my father alive.
An eye for an eye.
“How many men have you brought?” Enzo asked, changing the conversation as he moved around the desk to study the names alongside me. He spun suddenly to glare at the doorway when a man appeared in it, his lungs heaving with exertion, gripping the liquor cabinet harshly.