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She hid everything else from me after all.
What reason do I have to believe otherwise?
No, there is no doubt that the De Lucas orchestrated the death of our parents. I want to find some bitter satisfaction in the idea that, while our parents were murdered, so were theirs.
But it probably was just part of their plan that had gone wrong.
Marco isn’t nearly as intelligent as I.
However, after six years of searching for the original contract and trying to find evidence that would justify a retaliatory attack, my efforts were alarmingly fruitless.
I wasn’t about to risk an open attack on them. Not without proof.
I might be a criminal and a degenerate, but even I know better than to start a war without allies.
And allies need proof.
Especially in our world, the De Lucas were small, but begrudgingly well connected. Despite the remarkable amount of them that had been locked up in the great culling of the families in the States in the 80s and 90s, none of them flipped on their international allies.
In fact, many of the other organizations still backed the slimy assholes, and that wouldn’t work for me.
I didn’t want vengeance on them. Not exactly.
I want annihilation.
Nobody comes after the people I love and survives. This is as true today as it was then. I protect my business interests with a ferocity that is renowned the world over, but that intensity pales in comparison to how I protect my family.
The De Lucas harmed me. They harmed my siblings. They took my father and my mother from the world, which eventually broke my Nonna’s heart.
They hurt me.
And now it was their turn to hurt.
In order to wipe them from the planet completely, I needed those allies. I needed everyone to turn their backs on the De Lucas, so that they were alone and desperate. I needed them to be without a single friendly soul to call out to.
And then, I would strike.
After, of course, I made them admit to their part in my family’s murder.
I sigh and sit up. My phone is vibrating with a number of notifications. I glance at it quickly before I drag out a pen and paper to start making a list.
I have been told, by Gia, that I should hire a personal assistant.
I have also told Gia that I would rather take my eyes out with a melon baller than trust my organization system to another living being.
She told me I was throwing a dramatic ‘mantrum’ and stalked away, but she never brought it up again.
If what she’s saying is true about the child, this would be a helpful backup indeed. I make some notes on the paper, assigning some of my more specialized operatives to the task.
The great irony, of course, in claiming that one of the De Luca boys has a bastard is that while I have been vigilant my whole life about having protected sex, there is one time that I didn’t.
And I can’t think about it because if I do, the memories I have worked so hard to suppress will come roaring back.
I cannot think of Caterina like that. I can’t remember her taste, or her smell, or the way she moans and flushes pink when she comes.
I can’t think of her that way because I refuse to let her close to me again.
This time, I think darkly as I open my email, will be different.
