“She is of no consequence to you; therefore, you don’t need to know her name,” Alexander said calmly in a voice as implacable as forged steel.
Di Carlo huffed a laugh, obviously delighted with the tension solidifying the air in the room like taffy, sticky and impossible to tear through.
“Oh, but I think she could be very much of interest,” Ren rebutted. “We all know why you are here, Davenport, and it’s not to win dirty money from dirty men when you already have an abundance of your own. No, it’s to win information. Information that I happen to know.”
Di Carlo’s pleased expression creased into a jowly frown. “Now, Ren, I don’t want you to go stepping on my toes.”
Ren studied him for a long minute, reaching over to lift his rocks glass to his lips and take a draught of his whiskey. “If you leave us, Giuseppe, I don’t think anyone would hold you accountable for what goes on here tonight.”
“Why would I do that and miss all the fun?” he demanded like a spoiled child.
I had a feeling di Carlo had gotten his own way since birth, and the idea of anything else was utterly inconceivable to him.
“You do, and I’ll give you what you want on the micks,” Ren offered easily, but his eyes seemed to cut through di Carlo like a hot knife through butter, slicing through his shields until the heart of his desire was laid bare to Ren’s calculating gaze.
I knew a ‘mick’ was a derogatory term for an Irishman because Seamus had taught me as such, but I had no clue why the offer of information on them made the Cosa Nostra crime boss grin almost manically.
“I want it now, Ren,” he demanded.
“After the game,” he countered as if he was in a position of great power while sitting in di Carlo’s own hub, surrounded by his men all of whom were obviously carrying weapons.
Di Carlo vacillated, glaring at Ren, then sweeping his eyes over the rest of us before shoving away from the table. “Fine. You have one hour before I return. And Ren? If the information isn’t good, I just acquired a new nail gun I’d love to demonstrate for you.”
Ren waved the threat away with his hand and then slid his eyes to the nervous, waiting card-dealer and raised his brows. “Shall we then?”
The cards were dealt, and the first three laid down on the felt before Ren spoke again, his voice as coy as a serpent in the grass. “If you want the information, I’ll need something more than money from you, Davenport.”
Alexander didn’t seem surprised by this. He merely lifted a cool brow in question as he raised the pot by fifty dollars.
“Her,” Ren said, pointing a long finger at me. “She has to kneel at my side the entire game and if I win, she must spend an hour alone with me.”
Denial was written all over Alexander’s suddenly concrete form. Not even his chest moved with breath. He was so still, he seemed dead and mummified sitting there with his hands on his cards and his eyes tipped to the felt.
I thought about answering for him, agreeing to Ren’s conditions because I’d rather spend one hour in a room alone with a mafioso than the rest of my life being hunted by the Order who were, most likely, ten times more malicious.
I refrained, though, because I had promised Alexander I would follow his lead, and it seemed utterly imperative that I do so at that moment.
Even Dante, strung taut as a wire at my other side, did not speak for his brother, though I knew he wanted to.
We waited, the silence almost vibrating with strain.
“If I win,” Alexander began to say slowly in his cultured words formed out of ice. “You will tell me the location of the next Order of Dionysus auction in the city and abroad. You will give me the information immediately following the game. In addition, should I need a favour from you in the future, you will be open to receiving it.”
Ren’s eyes narrowed at his audacity before he let out a little chuckle. “Ballsy. I thought you Brits were known for your conservatism.”
“Clearly you’ve forgotten the ruthlessness of the great British empire,” Alexander said drolly.
Ren’s eyes sparkled with wicked mirth. “Clearly. Well then, I approve.” His eyes slid like an ice cube over my body, leaving a cold trail in their wake as he sized me up and then smiled thinly. “I believe your service is required at my side, bella.”
Alexander scowled at his endearment, but surprisingly, he didn’t protest. Instead, he stood and helped me to my feet. I was just moving away when his hand tightened on my hand, and he jerked me forward into his solid chest. My lips parted on an exhalation of breath, and then his mouth was sealed over mine, his tongue parrying hotly with mine in a quest for domination even though he knew I’d eventually give it freely.