Chapter 4

• GIDEON
• “Is this what we’re risking everything for?” Ricci’s voice was sharp as he slid a tablet across the table.
• Gideon leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. Around the table, six of his most trusted men waited for his response and command.
• Ricci was always about the gain. Sometimes, it was for the fun of it. Business was for the fun. Sometimes.
• “Risking everything?” Gideon’s tone was calm, almost mocking. “You forget, Ricci, this is what keeps our wheels turning. Every shipment brings us closer to owning this city outright.”
• Ricci frowned but said nothing. The tablet displayed the newest batch of luxury goods their network had secured; stolen high-end watches, designer jewelry, and rare art pieces.
• It wasn’t the kind of criminal activity that left a bitter taste in the mouth, but it kept their accounts overflowing and their competitors at bay.
• And this wasn't even where the bulk of the money came from. And that was the reason Ricci was mad.
• “This is clean money compared to what the others deal in,” Wyatt said, his easy grin lighting up the room. Wyatt was Gideon's best friend. “Gideon’s got a conscience. No blood diamonds, no weapons, no dirty cash.”
• Gideon’s eyes rolled to Wyatt. “I keep it clean because clean buys loyalty. Dirty money rots the foundations of any empire. It's bad enough that we let some of it slip by in the clubs.”
• The room went quiet at his words. They all knew what he meant. He wasn’t just talking about business; he was talking about survival.
• Gideon Falco didn’t climb to the top of this world by luck. Every decision was calculated against the risk.
• It had taken just that for him to keep control of the Mafia cartels when his parents had been murdered by Vincenzo.
• “Ricci,” he said, breaking the silence, “move the shipment to the warehouse by tonight. Tell our men to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. I don’t want any mistakes.”
• Ricci nodded and stood from the table. The rest of the men followed, leaving only Wyatt behind.
• Wyatt had come to celebrate Gideon's wedding night. Gideon had told him there was no use but when had his best friend ever listened to him?
• Wyatt waited until the door closed. “So,” he said, leaning back lazily, “the wedding’s done. How’s married life treating you?”
• Gideon shot him a look, but Wyatt only laughed. “You didn’t tell me she’d be beautiful.”
• “It doesn’t matter,” Gideon said coldly. “She’s useful. Nothing more.”
• Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “A pawn you’re legally tied to for life.”
• Gideon shrugged, though his stomach tightened. He planned to live his life like he wasn't married to her at all. “That’s her problem, not mine.”
• Wyatt shook his head, his face turning serious. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Gid. Marrying Vincenzo’s daughter? That man is—”
• “A liar,” Gideon finished for him, his voice low and bitter. “I know.”
• They didn’t need to say more. Wyatt had been there when Gideon’s parents were killed in a car crash that everyone whispered wasn’t an accident. And Wyatt had stood by him when he started suspecting Vincenzo Moretti’s hand in it.
• “Revenge isn’t going to bring them back,” Wyatt said softly.
• “I’m not after revenge,” Gideon replied. “I’m after control. The Morettis think they’ve won by marrying Alessa off to me. They have no idea what’s coming.”
• Wyatt gave him a long look before shaking his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”
• Gideon didn’t respond. He stood, signaling the conversation was over. “Let’s go. We’ve got work to do. And a party to attend.”
• Gideon planned on spending his wedding night alone, or with his mistress who would be dressed or naked, depending on his mood later.
• The club they went to was exclusive, with velvet ropes and a sea of black suits standing at the entrance. Inside, it was lit by strobe lights only.
• The air was heavy with cigar smoke; the smell of wealth. Gideon found a private booth which was always set aside for him and ordered for whisky.
• THE CLUB was one of the Falcos biggest clubs. They had three in this city alone. It made more money in a single night than most banks.
• “You should be home with your wife,” Wyatt teased, swirling his drink.
• Gideon snorted. “I’ll go home when I feel like it.”
• Wyatt smirked. “Let me guess. You’re giving her the cold shoulder already?”
• “She’ll adjust,” Gideon said dismissively. Gideon didn't want to talk about Alessa. He had more trouble on his head. He had a meeting with The Syndicate in three days. He clenched his fists without noticing.
• Wyatt leaned forward, his voice light but his words cut at Gideon. “You’re not your father, Gid. You can’t shut everyone out and expect them to fall in line. Look how he ended up.”
• Gideon’s jaw tightened. “Careful, Wyatt.”
• Wyatt held up his hands. “I’m just saying. You might find her more useful if she doesn’t hate you.”
• Gideon didn’t respond. He finished his drink and stood. “Enjoy the rest of your night. I have work to do.”
• He found Ricci at the back entrance, slid into his car and was driven home. He cracked his neck, almost smelling Alessa's perfume on him.
• Lilies.
• He remembered her tears when he'd found her and grunted.
• Gideon stepped out of the car when they got home and into the house.
• He spotted Matteo and Bianca, in the living room.
• They were twins and the only family he had left. He hadn't allowed them come to the wedding, even though Bianca had begged, offering to forfeit her allowance even.
• They should have been in their rooms by then but Bianca was pacing, while Matteo leaned against the wall, looking bored.
• “You’re late,” Bianca said, crossing her arms. “And where’s your wife?”
• “Somewhere around here,” Gideon replied curtly. “Why do you care?”
• “She didn’t come down for dinner,” Bianca said, dropping the tough act and looking concerned. “She’s locked in her room. Matteo thinks she’s crying.”
• Matteo shrugged. “Not my business.”
• “It’s not yours either,” Gideon said sharply. “Stay out of it.”
• Bianca glared at him. The twins were both eighteen, but sometimes, Bianca behaved like their mother. “You dragged her into this mess, Gid. The least you could do is pretend to care.”
• “She’s my wife,” Gideon said evenly. “But that’s all she is. Goodnight.”
• He turned and headed to his office, shutting the door behind him. The silence was welcome. He poured himself a drink and sat back, his mind racing.
• He didn't want his siblings liking her or caring about her.
• A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He sighed. “Come in.”
• The door opened, and his mistress, Tyra stepped in. She was dressed in a black dress that barely left anything to the imagination, a soft robe covering her shoulders. “Rough day?”
• “You could say that,” Gideon replied, leaning back into his chair and spreading his legs. He watched her hungrily as she came towards him.
• She crossed the room, her hand brushing his chest as she settled into his lap, her soft thighs folding around his waist. She smelled so good. Not like Alessa but good. “Let me make it better.”
• Gideon leaned down, his lips meeting hers greedily in a kiss. They kissed wildly, her hands running all over his skin.
• He was just about to drag the dress off her, her breasts almost spilling into his palms, when the sound of the door opening stopped him.
• He turned, his eyes narrowing as Alessa stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes on Tyra who grinned.