Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I hadn’t planned on doing it so soon. If I’d had my way, I never would’ve told her. But there was no way to escape her. Her scent was imprinted on me, clinging to me even as Pete’s death overpowered the air. She was attached to my fucking soul. I hadn’t planned on my soul having anything to do with Sienna.
But I didn’t plan on hers being as dark as mine.
I knew Felix was there last night. And I knew that she had seen him. She’d come harder than ever with him watching.
Felix was not one to push the boundaries like that, to play with his life, knowing there was a good chance I’d kill him for seeing what my woman looked like when she came. Fuck, I was already at the point where I was willing to end men who fucking looked at her the wrong way.
This behavior was not characteristic of Felix. He had the upmost respect for me and what was mine. But he was pushing it. Because of Sienna. No one was immune to her.
Not even me.
The door opened and closed, and I was glad for Vincentius’s arrival. I would’ve driven myself crazy, thinking about her. And I needed to be sharp. We had a lot going on this month. The Rosso family was arriving at the restaurant this evening. We had business to hammer out. A peace treaty to renew. And there was someone other than Sienna who could threaten that.
“Dinner last night did not go as I thought it would,” Vincentius informed me as he sat down. “She has fire, yes. Yet she did not burn the place down when some would say she has every right.” His brow was raised as he said this.
“Sienna has a tendency to surprise you,” I said, my voice clipped. As much as I adored and respected Vincentius, I could not have this conversation right now.
“I suspect she will continue to.” He leaned back, hands clasped in front of him. “But your bride is not who we’re here to talk about.”
“No,” I agreed, relieved to be moving away from Sienna.
He didn’t speak. I knew him well enough to know he couldn’t be the one to bring this up. He couldn’t say the words. Not after all these years, not after what he’d already taken from his son.
“We need to do something about Lorenzo,” I sighed. I didn’t try to beat around the bush, didn’t try to soften the blow. I respected him too much for that. I also knew he appreciated it.
The Don sighed, suddenly looking every moment of his seventy-two years. The lines on his tanned face deepened, those sharp brown eyes dulled and showed the toll this life had taken on him.
“I know.” He scrubbed a hand across his sharp jaw, grim acceptance in his tone.
For years, he had protected his son, and so had I. We’d reasoned away his mistakes, cleaned up his messes, and tried our best to cover up all of his fuck ups. Of which there were many. He fucked the wives of other families, almost causing wars. He screwed up shipments, costing us hundreds of thousands. Got drunk and belligerent at poker games, threatening people with his family name. Multiple times, he picked fights with police, putting a uniform in the fucking hospital for giving him a parking ticket, thinking he was untouchable.
And he was.
He was the son of the most dangerous man in the city, if not the country. He was the heir to the throne.
Except he wasn’t.
It became clear, very quickly, that Lorenzo was not cut out to be the head of the family. What happened to Isabella had broken him in almost every way. I supposed it broke me too, but in the right ways. The best ways. It meant I was perfect for the role that required a cold heart and an iron will.
We’d all tried to guide Lorenzo, to let the past work as fuel for him. But despite the love the Don had for his son, he was not a sentimental man. When it came time for him to retire, he knew that Lorenzo could not take on the title of Don. He gave it to me.
Lorenzo wanted me dead. I knew this. The boy who had once loved and looked up to me turned into a man who despised me. He thought I had stolen something from him when in reality it wasn’t his in the first place.
“I have tried to talk to him,” Vincentius sighed. “Many times.”
“I’m afraid he’s beyond listening,” I told him.
His face showed me the despair and resignation he had to that fact. “I’m afraid you’re right. I’m not sure what else we can do.”
I leaned back in my chair. “He has too much power,” I said bluntly. “We gave it to him because we thought it would help him. Give him purpose. Show him that he has the potential to be the Don.”