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Theo stood there with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
When my parents finally reached the door, Theo jerked forward just to spook them.
My mother gave a scream, and they ran into the hallway.
Theo shut the door and sighed before he joined me at the table, sitting where my father had sat a moment before.
I sat with my elbows on the table, staring at my hands as one massaged the other, feeling old pains in my knuckles from fights long forgotten.
Theo stared at me.
I kept my eyes down, doing my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my chest.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s fine,” I said immediately. “That’s how I expected it to go.”
“You wouldn’t have bothered if you’d really thought that.”
My hands stilled at his observation. After a pause, I continued to soothe the aches.
“Kill Dante. He deserves to die for this.”
“He deserves to die for a lot of reasons.”
“Then let’s do it. Let’s put a bullet in that fucker’s head and get your girl back.”
“She’s not my girl anymore.” It’d been six months. And in those six months, we hadn’t spoken to or seen each other. Dante prohibited me from visiting his property, so all our meetings took place in hotel lobbies or in office buildings. I’d been tempted to text her, but I knew it would just fuck with her head and make it harder.
“He still should be in the ground.”
I lifted my chin and pulled my hands back. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“You just said she’s not your girl anymore.”
I swallowed. “I still couldn’t do that to her.”
“I bet if she knew, she would give you her full permission.”
I shook my head slightly. “She’d be angry. Maybe cut him out of her life. But she would never wish her father dead.”
Theo watched me.
“I hate my father…but I would never wish that.”
Theo leaned back in the chair, his hair slicked back and his tux tight on his shoulders. “You know what I think?” His thick arms crossed over his chest. “I think you’re too fucking nice, Axel.”
My eyes flicked away.
“And you know what happens to nice guys? They get fucked over.”
“Oh, I know.”
“We can’t kill Dante, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get revenge.”
“When did this become a we situation?” I turned back to him. He had his own shit to take care of. His own business ventures that took up every minute of his day.
“The moment I heard your parents say that god-awful shit to you.”
“What’s your idea?” I’d been too depressed these last six months to care about revenge. I spent most of my free time with my wet bar, watching TV alone while life continued without me. Even when I saw Dante, I felt nothing. The last time I’d felt something was when I’d walked into that restaurant with Cassandra and broke my woman’s heart.
“You think Dante will drop you if he finds someone better?”
I gave a painful chuckle. “In a heartbeat. But no one can make him the kind of money I can.”
He grinned. “Except me.”
My eyes narrowed on his face. “I know we both hate him, but he’s not someone to cross. I appreciate your loyalty, but you don’t need to get your hands dirty because he fucked me over.”
“Yes, I do.”
I cocked my head slightly.
“Because you would do it for me.”
2
SCARLETT
The SUV pulled up to the plant, and one of the guys opened the back door for me to step out. It was overcast, the pavement wet from the midnight rain, and I felt the tiny pieces of gravel underneath my heels.
I walked forward, and the entourage of men assigned as my security detail followed me from a distance, two of them with automatic rifles and the others with handguns. I opened the door and stepped inside the plant, a production company for biscotti that were packaged and shipped overseas for Americans to enjoy. It was a company my father owned, just to wash his money, a company that beat all its competitors because the prices were so low. But the prices were so low because my father didn’t care about being very profitable. It was just for appearances.
I headed downstairs and stepped through the hidden door in the wall then walked into the part of the lab that actually mattered—where our product was manufactured. Instead of blue-collar workers dressed in stained uniforms, we had a sea of white coats and goggles. My father used to get his product from other producers, but they were unable to keep up with his demand, so he ventured into the business himself.
The men looked up when I appeared. They all stood at different parts of the counter, in different phases of the production of our product. They stared at me just the way they stared at my father—like they were terrified.
I walked to the plastic tubs where the product was visible. “Rigo, get the scale. Tom, move the crates. We’re going to weigh every single one of these to make sure nothing is missing.” I looked at the men in the laboratory, wanting to see their faces after I declared my intention.
