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I make my way to where I know Vigo’s office is first—thanks to Miles—and jimmy the lock and let myself inside. I rummage through the drawers for anything interesting, finding papers resembling building schematics for a waterfront housing development. I snap a few photos of them with my cellphone, accidently knocking over an iron artistic elephant in the process. I move to stand it back up when I find a key that was hiddenbeneath it. I pick it up and turn it over in my hand. It’s a key to a safe.
Looking up, I see a large Picasso hanging on the wall, an expensive item that doesn’t go with the rest of the office. Next to it is a watercolor of an abandoned lifeguard tower overlooking a stormy, deserted sea. I recognize the name signed on the bottom as that of a local artist who strips away the hustle and bustle of the city and makes the space that is usually filled with people and noise seem lonely and isolating. The two pieces don’t go together at all. Looking at them, I get the feeling they are the two bookends to Vigo’s life. It’s no secret that the man started with nothing and fought his way to the top. From a local nobody to a man rich enough to own an original Picasso.
On a hunch, I walk to the watercolor and tip it up, finding the safe underneath it. It makes sense. After all, if a thief were going to steal something, it would be the Picasso. I remove the painting and examine the safe, recognizing the type. Once I turn the key, it will give me thirty seconds to enter the six-digit code, or the alarm will trip.
I look around the office and consider what I know about Vigo.
He was once a supposedly great leader. People both feared and respected him, but losing his wife and son changed him. If rumors are to be believed, his wife and son are never to be mentioned. He once killed a man for saying his wife’s name. It’s as if a part of him knows they would hate the person he became.
If only they knew the man was a monster long before his family died.
Family.Nova.
I turn the key and type in Nova’s date of birth, and grin whenthe lock disengages and the door clicks open. Some people are so predictable.
Inside, I find a bunch more papers, a folder, a set of keys, and a stack of cash. I leave the cash and pocket everything else, sliding the folder into the waistband of my pants before locking the safe back up and rehanging the painting.
I crack open the office door and listen to see if anyone is around. Nothing but silence greets me. With a shake of my head, I leave the office and head upstairs.
Walking down the hall, I come across Gia’s room first. She’s not my target tonight, but I can’t resist checking out my girl’s handiwork. Stepping inside, I find Gia sprawled out on her bed, naked, with half a bottle of vodka on the dresser and puke on the floor. I move closer, using my gloved fingers to check for a pulse. When I find it sure and strong, I sigh in disappointment.
I heard talk about the woman back when I thought she was the don’s daughter, about how she was beautiful with a sweet smile and a catty nature that she hid from most. She sounded like a run-of-the-mill Mafia princess—spoiled and vapid. Looking at her now, naked and vulnerable, my dick doesn’t even twitch.
Unlike Nova, I have no sympathy for Gia. I did some digging and asked around, and people told me just how shitty she was to Nova. I suspect that’s the tip of the iceberg. And well, I can’t let that go unpunished now, can I?
I move around the room, my eyes falling on the desk in the corner. I pick up a black Sharpie and grin, pulling the cap off before returning to Gia. I write across her body the scores of names and insults she’s used against my wife before adding a few of my own. When I reach her mound, I writeAbandon all hope, yewho enter here,above it before capping the marker and returning it to her desk.
Next, I pick up a pair of metal-handled scissors and start cutting her highlighted dark hair until more of it lies scattered across her pillow than attached to her head.
Once I’m done, I put the scissors in her hand and hum happily as I walk out and head to Vigo’s room.
I can hear the labored sound of his breathing the second I enter. His room smells like sickness, so I’d be surprised if the maids didn’t already suspect that the don is ill. I move toward the large bed and stare at the sleeping man, who looks far older than I remember. It’s been over a decade since the last time I saw him, yet it seems like he’s aged at least two.
I try to find the similarities between him and Nova, but nothing stands out. I guess that’s how he got away with everything so easily. I remember his late wife. The hair and the body shape are both the same. If she were still alive, I don’t think there would have been any doubt about Nova’s parentage.
There is a table at the end of Vigo’s bed filled with prescription meds. The dim lamp in the corner provides just enough light to read the names. I don’t recognize most of them, so I pull out my cell and google a few, and find out that the man has some kind of cancer.
Spotting the bottle of water next to the bed, I take a handful of the pills I think will give me the desired effect and pull the capsules apart, pouring the contents into the bottle. I give it a good shake before returning it to its spot.
It would be so fucking easy to take him out right now. I could press my gun under his chin, and he’d be dead before anyone could do anything to stop it. But killing him is too easy. I want himto suffer first. I want this man to hurt, and taking Nova is the key to that.
The drugged water will incapacitate him for a couple of days, leaving him too weak to attend the wedding. He’ll be forced to watch it from home, and I’ll be right here watching it with him, ready for the big reveal.
I turn and leave, heading out the same way I came and making it back to the car without encountering a single person. What a fucking joke! How this man hasn’t had someone slip in, gut him, and slit Gia’s throat is beyond me. The man’s wife was murdered in this fucking house, for God’s sakes, and yet it seems he learned nothing.
He will, though, and there isn’t anything he can do to stop it.
Chapter 22
Nova
Hands move up my body to my breasts. Callused fingers pinch my nipples, making my back arch as nonsense words slip from my mouth. My stomach clenches as they move inside me, moving as if they’re in no rush, yet I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin.
My fingers grip the bed sheets as the haze of sleep starts to lift, but instead of the dream fading, everything becomes…
My eyes snap open with a gasp and clash with Vice’s as he fucks me, his thick cock bumping against my cervix, bringing a hint of pain to the pleasure.
“Two, almost three,” he grins, making me shake my head, still confused and sleepy.
