Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I take a long sip of whiskey and hold my hand up. Lucca falls silent, working his jaw. The fucker does not like acting subservient to me, not at all. He’s the kind of mafia boss that took power through violence, and the sort of man that would rise to the top of an ugly fight like the one their family went through is not the sort of man to willingly take orders from anyone but himself.
And yet, here he is, doing just that.
“Lord Kazan,” Ciro says, holding out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “We have other tributes we can make. Guns, shipments of drugs. What my Don is trying to say is we want to make things right between our organizations.”
“I can see that,” I say, looking between them. “You two came here to talk terms, and I believe you’re being genuine. I think you’re giving me as much as you think you can afford. But here’s the problem with that.” I lean toward them, my voice dropping as they stare at me. “I don’t care what either of you think. So long as there’s an Italian mafia family in my city, I will never be safe, even if you’re greatly diminished.”
“What are you proposing then, Lord Kazan?” Ciro asks, sounding nervous. He glances at Lucca. The young Don’s staring at me with a calm glare, and he must already know what I’m about to say.
“I want you out of Chicago. Take your families, your rackets, everything. Go back to Philadelphia.”
Ciro clears his throat. “Lord Kazan, you have to understand, we came here because back in the old city, things weren’t so good.”
“Then go somewhere else.” I glare at Ciro. “I couldn’t care less where you worthless fucks end up. Leave Chicago. Leave tonight.”
“Lord Kazan—” Ciro starts.
But Lucca interrupts him. The young man throws his drink back and shoves his chair back, standing. Lycus has a hand on his gun, but I steady him with a glance and a slight shake of my head.
Lucca stares down at me. The rage in his eyes is like a cool, calming breeze on my skin. It brings me joy, watching this boy squirm.
“We need one week,” he says. “We’ll gather everyone and go.”
“Lucca,” Ciro says harshly.
But Lucca gestures at him. “Shut your mouth, you old, worthless fuck. Kazan’s right. If we stay in Chicago, the war will start again. There’s no other way.”
Ciro speaks aggressively in Italian, but Lucca only turns and slaps him hard across the face.
I sit back, enjoying the show. This is why the Italians are crumbling. They can’t fall into line behind a strong leader, even one like Lucca.
But Ciro shuts his mouth. He looks affronted, enraged, but he does nothing.
Lucca turns back to me.
“One week,” he says. “And I have a request.”
My eyebrows raise. “You do? That’s strange. I thought you were in the process of leaving.”
“Chris Conti. I want his body.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Who said anything about a body?”
Lucca’s expression darkens. “I know you have him. I know he’s dead. I don’t care if you give him back in pieces. His mother wants a body in the fucking casket and I promised her I’d try.”
I scrub a hand down my face. Conti had a mother? An interesting idea, but I guess everyone’s got a mom.
“If my wife okays it, I’ll send him to you. What’s left of him, anyway.”
“Thank you, Lord Kazan.” He gestures at Ciro. “Get up, you dumb fuck. We’re going.”
“Yes, Don,” Ciro says, staring hate.
That’ll be a problem, but I couldn’t care less. Lucca will deal with it, or he’ll be dead.
“One week,” I say as Lycus shows them to the door. “If you are not out of my city in one week, I will hunt you all down and end you.”
The Italians leave without another word.
I smile to myself and take a long, deep breath, savoring the scent of victory.
Chapter 59
Camille
I stand on the balcony outside of our bedroom and look out at the lake.
Light glitters on the waves. The sun’s sinking in the sky, leaving it all pinks and purples. It’s funny how I’ve gotten so used to this place already. I’m in cashmere and silk and a pair of fuzzy slippers against the coming fall chill. I’ve never owned clothes like this before in my life, but Evander keeps insisting that I dress like his wife.
Even though our agreement is at an end.
It’s strange how when I first got here, the idea of dressing in fancy outfits repulsed me. Now though, I’m beginning to love all the different styles and options I have.
We haven’t discussed what to do now that Christopher is gone and the war is over. I don’t need to stay here anymore—nobody will chase me down if I leave the city. Our agreement is complete and our deal is at an end.