By the time he parked his Ducati in the casino parking garage, rage surged in Gio’s stomach; fury guided every beat of his heart.
Maddie. His father. His siblings.
The case.
Fucking Marco Fratelli.
It was a mishmash he couldn’t make sense of, and it was so loud in his head he wanted to scream.
Maybe Dom had it right.
Gio didn’t drink anymore, he’d had to quit when his sister had accused him of being an alcoholic. He’d never caved and gone to AA—he wasn’t a pussy, but he’d seen her point—and wanted her to shut up about it. Besides, he’d wanted to be an example for Dominic.
Fucking failure there, but right then his brother’s wayward habits weren’t such a bad idea. Maybe it could quiet his headfuck.
He stalked into the casino, and jogged down the stairs in lieu of waiting on the escalator or the elevator. The security office was probably the fastest way to find the piece of shit he sought, so he headed to the private employees-only elevator that required a fob to operate. It went to floors that weren’t patron-public.
Getting to the top floor only took a few moments, but it felt like hours, and he tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator doors to retract.
This corridor was more lit than the one that lead to the executive suites a few floors down, and all the doors on both sides were sealed shut, as if forbidden.
The beige walls contrasted with the deep red carpet with swirled designs inside the black borders. Instead of sconces, the place was lit by fluorescents in the drop-ceiling that highlighted a lack of art on the walls, as in other casino hallways.
He tried not to stomp his way down, but he made it to the nondescript door with only a few strides. Scanning his fob on the black box next to the door resulted in a green light, but the door swung open and someone met him before he could set one foot inside the large security office.
“Uh, how can I help you, Mr. Giovanni?” The security officer game him a onceover, and slunk back a bit from Gio’s obvious anger. He was dressed sharply, in a dark suit and wore a clear spiral-corded radio earpiece Secret Service-style, because it’d always been important that everything related to The Giovanni appear expensive and high-class.
They had uniformed security officers too, of course, but they were on all the floors, to be visible to the public. They were armed, like cops.
The Secret Service lookalike team watched from the shadows and handled real problems with stealth and discretion.
Gio didn’t know the kid, but it wasn’t unusual that he’d be known to all the casino staff. He straightened his shoulders.
Don’t be a dick, needed to be his current mantra.
Like Maddie and his taskforce teammates, he didn’t need anyone at the casino to know anything was amiss.
“I’m looking for Marco Fratelli. Have you seen him?” Over the guy’s shoulder, his eyes scanned the curved wall of computer monitors stacked upon computer monitors.
The main security office had three huge banks on three separate enormous desks. Three full-time officers in the room at all times, manning each one, in addition to their teammates that roved the casino floors. It was a twenty-four/seven operation, and because his father had always been security-minded, the department was vast; one of the biggest percentage of employees at The Giovanni.
Had things not gone south with Daddy Dearest, Gio wouldn’t have minded running it. Something Dom could never handle, yet he’d been given the task.
He’d wanted to be a cop more, always a point of contention with Big Tony, even before his mom had died. Partly, because of the choice of profession, and partly because his father had accused him of turning his back on his family.
Gio paused. His father had never wanted him to become a cop. Could there be more to that other than him not wanting to follow in casino-rooted footsteps?
No, Dad’s not a criminal.
“Mr. Fratelli is likely with Ms. Giovanni, getting ready for the gala. It starts at seven.”
The officer’s voice yanked him back to the present.
“Ah, the gala.” He pretended he knew what the fuck the guy was talking about. “So, the banquet center? What ballroom?”
The officer nodded. “Yes. It’s in Sicily, A through D.”
Damn, that meant it was going to be a giant thing. All of the ballrooms were named after Italian cities, and with its ability to be broken into four separate rooms, Sicily had the largest capacity.
“Thank you, I’ll head over there.”
“It’s black tie.” The guy flashed a small smile, like he was trying to be helpful.
“I don’t think I’ll be staying,” Gio grunted and whirled at the officer’s nod, striding back to the elevator before he even heard the door close.
He was going to have to find the fucker alone. Couldn’t confront him with Elise around.
A glance at his watch told him it was five to five, so he had time to have a chat with the fuckwad and get gone.
His next move would be guided by what he discovered.
Luck was on his side, and when he got to the vast conference and banquet wing of the casino, cockstain number one was alone in the corridor, chatting on his phone, outside the farthest restrooms from the largest ballroom.
Like the bastard needed privacy.
Well, that was fine with Gio.
Marco’s back was facing him, so he did a cursory search of the bathrooms to make sure they were really alone, then he approached from behind.
Guy still hadn’t noticed him.
He slammed the shorter man against the wall.
The cellphone clattered to the carpet.
Marco, or whatever the fuck his real name was, at least had the decency to pale out. Dark eyes went wide, but he sensed it was out of surprise more than fear. Recognition was there, too, of course.
Instinct whispered the guy was a good actor.
“Sorry you didn’t get to finish your call,” Gio drawled.
“What the heck?” Marco sputtered. He was kitted out in another super expensive selection, but this time a black tux. Shocker, it was another Armani.
Looked like the shithead was a loyal wardrobe kinda guy.
“Who the fuck are you?” He slammed him again, to punctuate his demand, laying his forearm against the asshole’s throat and giving him a little gas.
Again, surprise registered in his expression.
Why?
Because he’d been discovered, or because he really thought he was Marco Fratelli?
Assumed he’d never get caught?
“Wh-what? What’re you talking about?”
“Marco Fratelli died when he was five years old from a genetic heart defect. Tragic, yeah, but you ain’t him, true.”
“I am Marco Fratelli.” Armani didn’t miss a beat; even seemed sincere. He pushed at him, but Gio tightened his hold, leaned harder.
The guy wasn’t a pussy, had some good muscle to his frame, but Gio was a few inches taller, and had more mass.
“Bullshit.”
Marco opened his mouth, but didn’t get a chance to speak.
“Gio! What the hell are you doing?” Elise marched down the hall in five inch heels that sparkled in the dim light, perching her fists on both hips and glaring harder than he’d ever seen pointed in his direction.
He straightened and released her loser soon-to-be ex-fiancé. Gio hauled the cockwaffle away from the wall and brushed off his shoulders. “Nothing. Me and Armani just needed to have a little chat.”
His sister frowned. “Armani?”
He smirked. “Just a little term of endearment I have for my soon-to-be brother-in-law, isn’t that right, Armani?”
Over my dead body.
He couldn’t clue her in. Yet.
This case was making her and their father look guilty as fuck. He had to make it right before he could let anyone know what he was doing.
Armani cleared his throat and forced a small laugh. “Nickname. Right. All in good fun. No worries, tesoro.”
‘Treasure’ in Italian. Gio sucked back a growl. The fucker had no right to call her that.
Elise’s body loosened a little, but her eyes trailed her fiancé’s frame slowly, like she was making sure he was in one piece.
He was.
For now.
Gio forced a smile and his sister narrowed her eyes.
“I know you still haven’t mastered ‘manners’ yet, but don’t practice on Marco.” She cocked her head to one side, her long blonde locks shifting, brushing the shoulder left revealed by the design of the fancy platinum dress. Like her shoes, it glimmered in the available light, as if she was wearing a diamond.
The fabric dipped lower on one side, but covered her other shoulder and lead to a long sleeve where, like the shoulder, the other arm was bare. The bodice revealed more than he’d like to see his sister showing, but he didn’t have time to holler at her. Besides, Elise Giovanni was a beautiful woman. Looked just like their mother.
The gala was likely some fancy party for high-rollers, so his sister and the douche-caboose were both dressed to the nines.
Black tie, like the security officer had mentioned.
Sam, also in a tux, hovered in the open ballroom doorway, silently watching the exchange, but he stayed where he was, about fifty feet away.
Well, Gio wouldn’t take time to converse with baby bro. His mission with this asshole was far from done. Too bad his sister had found them together.
Not only did he have no answers, he hadn’t been able to blacken the fucking liar’s eye. Or both of them. His two balls could use some damage, too.
“What’s really going on here?” Elise’s dark eyes were narrowed, and her hands were back on her hips.
“You know, I had to do my big brotherly duty and warn him to treat my sister well, and all that.” Gio forced a smile, and Marco let out a nervous laugh.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” the fucker said, taking a step away, and pulling Elise to his side, much like he’d done last night in their father’s office.
You’re right, ‘cause there’s no fucking way you’re marrying her.
His sister’s expression softened when she looked up at her liar-fiancé. She wove her arm around his waist and moved closer. Then she put her eyes back at Gio. “Did you come for the gala?” She arched an eyebrow, like she already knew the answer to her own question.
“I came to make sure you were okay.”
Elise offered a small smile. “We’re…coping. Dom should be here soon. You should stay and talk to him. He’s taking Dad’s situation really hard. He went to the hospital this morning.”
Gio fought the urge to swallow as his mouth went dry. “I can’t tonight. But tell him to call me.” Damn, he really wanted a drink now. His throat was a desert, begging for some scotch.
Her brows knitted, and he couldn’t stand it.
He shot forward and tugged her away from Armani, urging her into an embrace. He glared at the fucker over her head. “You look great, Lise,” he whispered and dropped a kiss on her neatly coiffed head.
“Thanks.” When she pulled back, her dark eyes were misty. “I wish you’d stay. We can get you a tux or something.”
“You know I’m not good at that shit.”
She gave the barest nod and he wanted to shoot himself at the disappointment in her expression.
They just looked at each other for a moment that felt like an hour. After a mutual breath, they spoke at the same time.
“Did you think about going to the hospital?”
“I should head out.”
Elise closed her eyes.
Gio sure as hell wanted to do the same.