23
DANTE
Sienna was half-asleep when the text I’d been waiting for finally came. I double-checked the location before slipping out from beneath the covers. Sienna sighed, rolling over to reach for me and finding only air. Frowning, her lashes fluttered open.
“Where are you going?”
I bucked my belt, trying to straighten out my wrinkled shirt. “To meet my contact.”
Propping herself up on her good arm, she frowned. “Right now?”
“If we want information on the auction, then yes, right now.” I could still see the uncertainty in her eyes. Bending across the bed, I kissed her softly. “We won’t be gone long. I promise. Just stay out of David’s bedroom.”
Sienna’s lips curled. “Only if you’re back in two hours. Otherwise, I make no promises.”
“I’ll try to make it an hour and a half.” I gave her a sharp look. “But I mean it, Sienna. Unless you want another punishment, I suggest you listen.”
Closing the door softly behind me, I went to Killian’s door. I wasn’t exactly sure where he was in the house, but there weren’t too many places to hide. He answered the door at my knock, looking disheveled. His hair stuck up, ruffled from the pillows.
“Get ready. We’re leaving.”
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes from his afternoon nap. “Where?”
“To meet my contact. Look somewhat presentable.” I turned, leaving him to get dressed and ready.
I tried not to think about the woman we would be meeting. I haven’t had anything to do with her since the year after we graduated. She’d come from the Bronx, a nobody living a normal life. Until she’d met me. Then everything changed for her.
He met me downstairs after ten minutes, looking somewhat better. We left quietly, walking two blocks before calling a cab. It took us downtown to Wen’s restaurant. The street was nearly empty as we stepped out, paying our fare before heading inside.
She was waiting for us there.
“Dante, it’s so good to see you again.” Layla rose from the booth she’d taken over, long legs slipping from beneath the table to give me a kiss on the cheek. She pulled away, studying me beneath thick lashes. “It’s been too long,” she purred.
Layla King was an art curator by day and the best damn underground art dealer by night. She was tall, with legs that went on for miles and curves in all the right places. Thick black hair curled around her shoulders, framing a sweetheart face and eyes that could kill a man. I’d known her since university, where we attended a few bullshit classes together. She moved close, the low-cut red button-up stretching across her breasts. Not that I noticed. But Killian clearly did.
Killian cleared his throat behind me. “Hello.” His head tilted, lips curling. “I’m Killian. His brother.”
Layla glanced at him in surprise. “I didn’t know Dante had a brother.”
That didn’t seem to phase him in the least. “I didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”
“Well,” she flashed him a brilliant smile, “it’s very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
I slid into the booth, Killian following suit as Layla took the other side. My brother leaned closer, dropping his voice so she wouldn’t hear. “I won’t tell Sienna if you don’t…ow.” He glared, rubbing the place where I’d pinched him.
“Focus,” I snapped. Turning to Layla, I asked, “Do you have what we need?”
Her hand rested on her chest, mocking offense. “We just reunited after you disappeared, and that’s all you want to ask me about?”
“Yeah, Dante. Don’t be rude.” Killian was enjoying this.
“We’re a bit on a time crunch,” I said, gritting my teeth. I thought bringing him along would get him more involved and keep him busy, but now I was entirely regretting it.
Layla shrugged, the gesture far too graceful to be human. Reaching for her purse, she pulled out four tickets, glinting gold. Sliding them across the table, her long red nails tapped the glimmering surface. “These weren’t easy to get. Each of us who were invited got a plus one, but you needed four tickets. One is for you; the other three were favors I needed to call in.” She emphasized that last part, making it clear that I would owe her. “The front of the auction is mostly stolen art, but I caught a peek at the guest list. There’s some serious names on there. Frank La Rosa for one.”
Shit. Frank La Rosa was a weapons mogul from Sicily. He wasn’t a Don, but he was powerful enough to claim the title if he wanted to. While he mostly stayed on his side of the ocean, there were a few times he’s used the Rosania’s company to ship his stolen weapons to various criminal organizations across the United States. If he was going, then this was bigger than I thought. I just needed to figure out why.