I look at Polo, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a look of amusement on his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Abramo has a thing for his cousin,” I drawl.
Polo snorts, shaking his head. “No fucking way. He’s a knock off the old block, he prefers brown women, like his daddy. Plus, that dude is into some fucked up shit, but I’d see him fucking a turtle before he fucked his cousin.”
My brow lips, “Fantasize about people fucking turtles often?” I ask him.
“About as often as you fantasize about settling down with a nice normal person.”
“Enzo’s nice,” I tell him, “but I’ll never settle down.” I turn away from him, watching the room. “What do you know about the whole thing with the Rossi family and the FBI?” I ask, changing topics as I note that no one from the Rossi family is actually in attendance tonight, not even one of the brothers.
Polo steps up next to me, his shoulder bumping into mine. “As of right now, all I know is that they’ve definitely got Old Man Rossi in some hot shit. None of the sons have been connected in the cases quite yet.”
His voice is a little tight and I know he’s holding something back. “Now, that’s not all that you know, is it, Polo?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs his shoulders. “It depends on if you could get your cousin to find someone for me.”
I turn to look at him fully. These type of events are for socializing, but most importantly, they’re for business. For us, the Rossi family’s case with the FBI has been something we’ve been looking for more information on. Because just like Sheffield’s family could be a good alliance for us, the Rossi family could be a better one.
Up until now, we haven’t necessarily been at odds with them, but we haven’t been working with them either. Rossi Senior was a big enemy of our father’s, not that I can blame him, many people didn’t like the old fuck, including myself. But Giovanni was always father’s favorite and he was loyal to him, which is why he has always been hesitant to do business with the eldest Rossi.
But with rumors of him going to jail for some hard time, likely life, it means one of his sons will be taking over the family soon. Which could give us an opportunity to strike a real alliance.
Polo has always been close with one of the sons, the oldest, and if anyone knows some good details, it’d be him.
But who does he want Lucia to find?
“Maybe. I’ll need more details before I can promise you anything.”
His lips pinch together and he watches me for a moment before nodding. “Okay, I’ll hold you to your word.” He leans in a little closer to me and I pitch my head to the side. “Word on the street is that the FBI has someone they’re getting information from.”
That’s surprising, because it means Rossi left loose ends before he was taken into custody. A death wish for any boss.
“Really? Does anyone know who?”
Polo’s gaze flicks across the room before he lowers his voice even further. “His wife.”
Well damn.
That’s the consequence of getting married.
“You have connections in the FBI,” Polo continues, “I’m sure that if you could get a confirmation on the informant, it’d be a way to get your foot in the door with the sons.”
He isn’t wrong, but I don’t verbally thank him for the tip, just nodding instead. “And I’ll see what Lucia can do, just send me the name.”
He returns my nod.
I turn back toward the room. Most of the partygoers have already cleared out. Everyone has completely forgotten about Winter and Sienna’s scene. My gaze lands on a head full of curls moving across the dancefloor and a smirk crosses my face, business forgotten. “How are things going with Lorenzo and Daria’s engagement?”
I don’t care how much I like a person, riling people up is my favorite thing, right after a dry fuck with Enzo. And when it comes to Polo, there’s a one word switch that always raises his hackles.
Maybe if the fucker wouldn’t have agreed to Abramo dancing with Winter after I left him to watch her, I would leave him alone.
“They’re going good,” he grunts out.
I hum. “Must suck to be in love with a woman already taken.”
He doesn’t offer a response, but when I look at him, his body is coiled with tension. I raise a brow.
“I don’t understand why I even bother to be friends with you.”
“Me either.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it,” he mutters after a moment. His shoulders deflate.
“Sure you can.”
He blinks, his brows folding together as he looks at me. “Dare I ask, but what would you do if the person you wanted was already taken by another person, someone who you love and respect.”
“Simple,” I tell him, tucking a hand into my pocket. “I’d kill them.” I tap him on the shoulder. I look in the direction Isabella went. “Now I’ve got to go, because you may not be getting any Accardi pussy, but I certainly am.”