CHAPTER 29

RENZO

 

“Red and black,” I said finally.

 

Her shoulders relaxed instantly. “Yes.”

 

“I go,” I added. “On my terms.”

 

“Of course,” she said quickly.

 

“And if I find out you’re using this to parade me,” I continued, “I won’t be kind about it.”

 

She met my gaze. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.”

 

Grace cleared her throat softly. “Shall I arrange fittings?”

 

Elix smiled again. “Please.” She turned to me once more. “Thank you, Renzo.”

 

I nodded once. “Don’t thank me yet.”

 

That night, after everyone cleared out, Richard called.

 

“You’re attending the gala,” he said, not a question.

 

“Yes.”

 

There was a long pause. “Good.”

 

“It sends many messages,” I replied. “Some of them you won’t like.”

 

He sighed. “Just don’t lose focus. We need the guns.”

 

My phone buzzed again. It read an incoming call from an unknown number. I stared at it for a long moment before answering.

 

“Speak,” I said.

 

“Boss. It’s Hawk.”

 

I straightened. “Report.”

 

“There’s movement,” he said. “But a woman matching her description was seen near a private terminal in São Paulo.”

 

My grip tightened around the phone.

 

“And,” Hawk added, hesitating, “she wasn’t alone.”

 

I smiled slowly.

 

“Keep watching,” I said. “Don’t engage.”

 

“Yes, boss.”

_______________

I ended the call and sat there for a while longer with the phone still in my hand and my thumb resting on the dark screen.

São Paulo was not accidental. Nothing ever was with Zaria. If she were there, she wanted to be seen just enough to stir the water, then disappear again.

And if she was not alone, it meant she had already chosen a side or was baiting me. Either way, it made the gala more annoying than it already was.

I should be searching for Zaria.

Not doing this nonsense with Elix.

The next afternoon was spent with Grace and May hovering and Elix pretending not to hover while doing exactly that.

The VIP dressing suite they had prepared for me was larger than I liked with too many mirrors and too many people waiting for my reaction.

I stood while suits were laid out on the bed.

“Red and black,” I repeated, pointing at one.

Grace nodded. “This one, sir,” she said, lifting the black jacket with a deep red lining. “It fits and doesn’t look like a funeral.”

“I’m not in mourning,” I said.

Elix smiled tightly. “Of course not.”

I stripped out of the robe without caring who saw. Grace helped me into the trousers and shirt, adjusting cuffs, checking seams. The jacket slid over my shoulders and I adjusted.

I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the man looking back.

“You look…” Elix inhaled sharply and stopped herself.

“Like a problem,” I finished.

She laughed lightly. “Like yourself.”

I adjusted the cufflinks. “That’s what worries people.”

When it was time, the drive to the gala was silent except for the low hum of the engine. Elix sat across from me with her hands folded in front of her. She had chosen a pure red velvet gown that accentuated her breasts and curves and a pair of clear heels that displayed her pedicured feet.

Her brown wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders and a part of it was tucked behind her ears which had unique long dangling ruby earrings pinned on.

I averted my gaze from her. Zaria was… prettier.

The moment the car slowed, the noise hit us. There was shouting, flashes, and movement everywhere. The doors opened and sound rushed in like water. I stepped out first. Then Elix stepped out and froze for half a second.

She gasped. She tried to hide it, but I saw it. The way her eyes widened at the crowd that awaited us.

I may be part of the Mafia, but I ran a so-called legitimate business outside of the warehouse to appear normal. That was the side a few media personalities saw and loved to exploit as their news…

Crazy beings.

Feeling the expectation settle on my shoulders, I opened my arm without looking at her. Elix slipped her arm into mine, and together we started walking toward the entrance.

The paparazzi exploded.

“Renzo! Renzo! Over here!”

“Is this your first public appearance since the coma?”

“Where is your wife, Zaria?”

“Why is Elix Vescari with you tonight?”

The flashes went off nonstop, names were shouted and accusations disguised as questions followed us like a swarm.

“Elix! Are you replacing Zaria?”

“Renzo, is your marriage over?”

Suddenly, one reporter stepped forward. I couldn't tell if he was braver or more foolish than the rest.

“Mr. Dominico,” He said loudly. “The mafia queen is nowhere to be found. Zaria Dominico has not been seen at your mansion since your collapse. Who is this lady at your side tonight?”

I turned my head slowly and looked at him. Was this young man really asking me who the fuck Elix Vescari is?

Everyone knew who Elix was because her father made it his life endeavour to send her pictures to all media houses. He wanted her to be popular.

Though it was working.

Just in the wrong way. And where I came from, popularity wasn't power.

My lips curled as the irritation flashed in Elix's eyes for the briefest moment. She knew the reporter was being purposely rude. But before she could speak, the reporter continued.

“And is it true,” He rushed on, “that your wife abandoned you while you were in a coma?”

I sighed.

“This,” I whispered calmly to her. “is exactly why I hate going to these things.”

The reporter leaned in again. “Sir—”

“Elix is the daughter of my Father's friend. A friend of a friend so to speak.” I said, cutting her off.

The crowd murmured, cameras clicking faster.

“As for Zaria,” I continued, my tone flat. “She is a cruel woman who left me in a coma. Draw your conclusions from that.”

I felt Elix stiffen against my arm.