“So, what’s your plan? You want to kill Frank?”
“Only if everything else fails.” Julij surrounds himself with a cloud of smoke. “I simply won’t do business with him when Nikolaj dies. If he steps aside, he’ll be safe. But even if I let him live, he won’t last six months unless he flees the country. He turned many people into enemies. Very unforgiving enemies.”
That’s not surprising. For six years, instead of taking advantage of the help offered, rebuilding his name, and creating the network he used to crave, Frank has tried everything to regain the South. I heard about deals gone wrong, FBI raids, and blatant murders. And that’s just a drop in the ocean. Like a racing horse, Frank wears blinders, scheming to eliminate me from the picture. The only thing he won’t do is put a bullet through my head.
Not without reason.
Eight years ago, we did our weekly rounds collecting money from the brothels that paid Dino for drugs and protection. One of the owners refused to pay. Marcus was a gambler; he used to lose a lot in the casinos, but that night he lost half a million dollars. He was high, probably drunk too, and when we walked into his office, he greeted us with a .44 Magnum. He aimed the gun at Frank’s head... I did the first thing that sprung to mind—I shoved Frank aside when Marcus slid his finger to the trigger, drew my gun, and shot him just as he fired his gun. The bullet intended for Frank hit the door.
He can’t kill me. He owes me his fucking life.
Julij’s smarter than I give him credit for. Working with me once he is in charge is one of the more prudent strategic moves he can make. He’s new in our world. He doesn’t know people or the rules. Nobody respects or trusts him yet. Nikolaj kept him in the shadows too long, and now Julij needs a way in. He needsme. He needs someone who’s respected, trusted, and feared. In return, he can give me something I crave: cut Frank out of the picture; stop doing business with him, and consequently rob him of protection.
“Frank won’t step down voluntarily.” I light a cigarette, throwing the packet on the table.
“I’d be surprised if he did, but he knows his protection dies with Nikolaj. I hoped Layla would force the two of you to forget about your differences, but after my chat with Frank, I realized he’ll never forgive you. You have to stay safe, Dante. Keep Layla safe too.”
I shake my head. “That’s a miss. Frank won’t kill me. If he could, he would’ve tried a long time ago, and Layla’s his daughter. He’s one evil fucker, but he won’t hurt her.”
“Do you really think he won’t kill you when it comes down to you or him?” He puts the cigar out, resting his elbows on the table. “I hear he’s looking for a hitman.”
“Let him look.” I brush it off despite the news coming as a surprise. “Don’t worry about Layla or me.”
I don’t like the idea of Layla under someone’s watchful eye at all times. She hates being controlled, and I really can’t see Frank hurting his own daughter.
Julij’s jaw works furiously. “Don’t be careless. Are you honestly one hundred percent certain Frank won’t use Layla? Maybe he won’t hurt her, but when he finds himself against a wall, she’ll be his only way out of this shit, and hewilluse her. If I know you’ll give up everything for her, then Frank knows it too.”
Maybe he has a point. Desperate men do desperate things. Frank is desperate. The ground is slipping from under his feet, and he’ll soon be buried alive.
“You have someone you can trust, or should I send my people to Chicago to watch over your girl?”
“I don’t surround myself with people I don’t trust.”
I don’t have to think about who Layla’s bodyguard will be. She won’t be pleased, but recent events prove that Luca’s perfect for the job. He’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe, andsafeis all I need her to be if I’m to function like any other sane person.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Layla
Isla’s a remarkable woman. Positive, warm, and cheerful. She never stops smiling. Everything brings her joy. Since I woke up, she must’ve hugged me a dozen times. It’d take Jess ten years to top that, which makes spending time with Dante’s mother rather difficult. She appreciates me for who I am, making me painfully aware of how much I crave the same from my parents.
Expecting them to hug me daily is out of the question—miracles don’t happen—but if they’d take an interest in my life, I’d be the happiest person alive.
“What are you thinking about, sweetie?” Isla’s melodic voice erases my troubles as if she wiped a whiteboard clean.
“It’s nothing... could you play something for me?”
“I’m mainly a composer, but I’ll take out my violin for you, sweetie.” She squeezes my hand with a fond smile. “I want you to know I’m thrilled that my son fell in love with you, Layla. He’s different around you. Happy, relaxed. And the way he looks at you? I’ve never seen him care so much.”
I force a smile while my heart breaks bit by bit. I love him more than I ever thought possible and hate myself for it. I hate myself for trusting Frank and following his orders.
“I care about him too. More than he’ll ever know.”
I lose my boots, getting comfortable on the cream couch decorated with green pillows as I wait for Isla to come back with her violin. The maid brings over a stool, leaving it in the doorway leading to the dining room. Isla climbs onto it, readjusts the elegant dress, and places the violin between her chin and left shoulder, holding the bow in her right hand.
“My father used to listen to your music all the time. I loved one piece the most. It was a slow melody. Like a lullaby.”
Isla’s eyes stop glowing with the contagious positivity, her smile slips, and tears dance in the corners of her eyes.