Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 14Adelina

Chapter Fourteen

Adelina

Ward held the elevator for me. Stepping inside, I pulled out a keycard, swiped, and pressed the button labeled forty-three. There were no words uttered as the elevator descended one floor, to the level that afforded no one access without the proper credentials. I was almost surprised mine were sufficient.

But it was just like Papà to be too arrogant to notice when he’d created an enemy in one of his own.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Ward extended a hand to usher me ahead of him.

“Thanks,” I stepped out into a large waiting area on forty-third floor of the Parisi Hotel. One floor down from Wilde’s and my family’s suite and one up from where the rest of us were staying. “We’ll setup in the boardroom at the end of this hall.”

The Warden pursed his lips and scanned the wingback chairs paired around small cocktail tables throughout the area.

I threw my arm out toward the wet bar on the side of the room. “Would you like something to drink?”

Ward quirked a brow. “You know, I’ve always been a whiskey neat kind of guy. But I’ll stay dry today.”

“Suit yourself.” I darted over to the fridge and poured myself a glass of Chardonnay.

As soon as the wine hit my throat, I let out a deep sigh. The view through the windows was astounding, but we weren’t here to take in the scenery. I took a deep breath through my nose, inhaling the damask rose and holy basil scents that Papà had filtered in through the ventilation system.

“It gets everybody ready to be calm and levelheaded,” Papà always said.

To me, though, the aroma made the air feel different, quieter, heavier.

This floor was reserved for dealings most guests never knew about, the kind of business my father liked to keep private. Although his torture room wasn’t here. It was in the second basement level, and I really had no desire to make my way down there again.

I took another long pull from my wine glass, but tension still tightened like a band around my chest as we walked down the plush carpeted hallway. Each step seemed heavier than the last. The forty-third floor was too quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t calming—just eerie.

At the end of the hall, I pushed open two heavy oak doors, their intricate carvings taunting me, reminding me of all the old-world power my father wielded over this place. It seemed all too familiar.

“What’s behind door number two?” Ward asked, one side of his mouth lifting as he scanned the doorframe.

I gulped, doing my best to shake off my nerves. “Yeah, this is it. We’ll be monitoring the diamond interception from here. It’s got the best AV equipment in the hotel.”

Ward followed me inside, his footsteps light but purposeful. The room was as I remembered it: dark wood paneling, dim lighting, and a large conference table dominating the center. Leather chairs surrounded it, and a minibar sat off to the side, stocked with bottles of liquor older than I was.

The whole thing screamed old-school Mafia, something straight out of the Godfather , but it wasn’t built for what we needed. Not for this operation. That much, I knew, even if I was ignorant of how to pull off the job we were arranging.

“It’s out of the way,” I continued. “Quiet—no one will disturb us.”

Ward gave a low whistle, surveying the room. “Sleek. Fancy. But that”—he pointed at the oversized table in the middle—“that’s not gonna work.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He circled the table, his fingers lightly tapping the surface as he moved. “We need workstations with computers, comms, monitors. This thing”—he rapped his knuckles on the table—“takes up too much space. It’s not efficient for a job like this. We need this room cleared so I can set up properly.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall as he moved around the room, inspecting all the plugs and ports.

“And what do you propose we do with it?” I asked. “This isn’t exactly a space we can rearrange on a whim.”

Ward stopped, meeting my gaze. “You’re Adelina. Massimo’s daughter. The princess to the fortune that owns this empire.” He spread his arms and turned in a slow circle.

“I’m not an heir to shit,” I countered.

“Something tells me, little girl, that if anyone can find some minions to get this moved, it’s you.” He pulled out his phone with one hand and held the other out palm-up.

I stared at it until he said, “Credit card?”

“Just call Titan Tech.” I pointed to the plaque on the Polycom in the center of the table. “It’s run by one of my father’s Capos. Mention the Parisi Hotel, and they’ll put it all on my father’s tab.”

“Perfect, I’ll order in workstations and secure lines.”

“I’m pretty sure the lines in here are protected,” I said.

Ward lifted one brow. “You want this job done right? We do it my way.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, considering his point. He wasn’t wrong. The table was impressive, sure, but it wasn’t what we needed. And the lines might be secure for Don Parisi, but for others?

The operation we were running wasn’t about old-school Mafia deals—it was about precision, speed, and information. Ward seemed to understand that.

“All right,” I said, pushing off the wall. “I’ll get staff up here to clear it out.”

Ward nodded his approval in such a way that I could almost hear “Good girl” falling from his lips. I shivered. Not wanting that feeling from anyone aside from my men—Sas, mostly. But I’d met Ward’s ol’ lady once. I didn’t crave that kind of praise from a lover, but she wore her need like a cloak.

He turned and paced the room, alternating between mumbling things about cables, laptops, and other equipment and typing furiously on his phone. I watched him for a moment, admiring the way he worked—focused, efficient, and always thinking two steps ahead.

He glanced up at me again. “You good?”

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the window. The city buzzed below, cars moving down the streets like ants, but my mind was far from the view. I hadn’t been “good” since this whole mess started.

Not since Sas got locked up, since my father disappeared during the wedding. Shit, if I was being honest, not since Papà announced I would be getting married. I had an inkling everything was connected, leading back to Don Massimo Parisi and the control he had on my life. For now.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though I didn’t believe it. I turned away from the window, pushing down the frustration that had been bubbling up since my ruined wedding. “A lot on my mind.”

Ward didn’t push. He never did, from what I had witnessed. He gave me a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Then he returned to his planning.

As I watched him, a thought settled in my mind, one I hadn’t voiced yet. There was something else I needed to set straight before this operation got underway.

“Ward,” I called, my voice steady but firm.

He paused, looking up at me expectantly. “Yeah?”

“There’s one more thing,” I said, stepping closer to the table and him, my eyes locking with his.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“When this operation goes live, you report directly to me. No one else.”

He blinked, “Not sure I can do that. Wilde’s my Prez. And Massimo?—”

“Listen.” I straightened my spine. “Sas is my husband. Graff and Rafe are mine too. Wilde is going on the mission, so he’s not here to be in charge.”

He took a second to process my words. “And the Don?”

“Especially not him,” I said, my tone hardening. “I’m running this. I don’t care what my father says or does, he’s not calling the shots. Not anymore.”

Ward studied me until he apparently got whatever answers he needed, then nodded. “Understood. You’re the boss.”

“Good,” I said, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders. It was heavy, but I was ready to carry it. For Sas. For the MC. For myself.

Fear and uncertainty wracked through my body, and I moved to the window to hide my shudder. I didn’t have any experience in this and taking the lead put their lives in my hands, so what the hell was I doing? I had little choice but to choose the people I would trust, and Ward had to be one of them.

Finishing my wine, I set the glass on the table. “Ward?”

He let out a sound—half growl, half hrm?—and flashed his eyes over to me.

Time to be real. “I grew up in the Mafia, yes. Money laundering. Guns. Drugs. Clubs.” I sighed. “But reality is that don’t know crap about hijacking a truckload of diamonds.”

He smirked. “That so?”

“Yup.” I swallowed, Sas’s warning about trust clawing at me from the inside. “So I’m choosing my team carefully. People I can trust.”

His eyes darkened. “I’m still on Wilde’s team, doll.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’m not standing against the MC Prez.”

In truth, I’d seen a lot in Wilde that made me no longer so leery of the club.

“Good thing,” said Ward.

“Listen. I know the Prez wants you to stay on top of intel for busting Sas out of jail. That’s important to me too. Can you handle both?”

He laughed and smirked at me like the question was stupid.

“Good. Let me know what you need here, and I’ll get it. Call Titan for electronics. If you need people, fine. Anything at all. In return, you are going to keep me informed and make certain the men I love are bringing their asses back to me in one piece.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You plan on handling Massimo too?”

My jaw tightened. “Yep. On my way now.”