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“I don’t trust him,” Cesare muttered. “He and his family are too ambitious.”
My uncle Gottardo and his eldest Gottardo Junior definitely weren’t in favor of me becoming Capo after my father, but that could be said about all of my uncles. They thought they would be better Capos. “We’ll stay a few hours and then we’ll come back here and have our own party. Or we’ll drive back to New York and go into one of our clubs.”
“Do you really think we’ll be sober enough to drive back to New York? It’s a long drive from the Hamptons,” Romero said, frowning.
Matteo chuckled. “How come you’re so goddamn rule-abiding?”
Romero flushed.
“Come, Matteo. Nobody gives a fuck about your shirt,” I growled when it looked as if he was considering trying on another.
Uncle Gottardo’s mansion wasn’t far from ours, so we walked over. A guard opened the gates for us and we headed up the long driveway to the entrance door where Gottardo Junior was waiting. He frowned when he saw us. “I didn’t expect you to bring more people along.”
“Romero and Cesare are always with us,” I told him as I shook his hand before he turned to my brother and congratulated him. We all stepped into the entrance hall. Loud music and voices were coming from the living area. I stripped off my gun and knife holders and dropped them on the sideboard as was expected. Matteo, Romero, and Cesare did the same before we followed my cousin toward the party. I knew most of the men only distantly since they were friends of Junior and his brother Angelo from Washington.
“How come you’re here?” I asked, as I headed for the array of alcoholic beverages while several half-naked girls danced around us. Junior had even set up poles for them.
“I needed a few days off. Business has been soul-sucking.”
I nodded. The Bratva had given us all trouble recently.
Junior smiled widely. “Now, let’s have fun!”
A couple of hours later, we were all trashed. Matteo and I danced with a group of four girls. It would be a long night. One of the whores started twerking right in front of us, her ass cheeks glittery, her thong a thin strip of nothing. Romero had disappeared with another whore in a backroom. Maybe he’d finally get fucked. Cesare slouched in his seat, eyes half-closed as a woman rode him like a pro.
Matteo clapped the dancer’s ass and she squealed, then whirled around and ground against his groin. More girls swarmed around us. I plopped down on one of the armchairs, the alcohol taking its toll, and one of the girls sank down in front of me, massaging my cock through my pants. A second came up behind me and ran her hands down my chest. I was about to snarl at her for being at my back when she fell forward, her cut throat spilling blood down my shirt. “Fuck!”
The whore massaging my cock looked up with wide eyes. I shoved myself out of the armchair and turned at the same time, bringing my arm up just when Junior brought his knife down. The blade grazed my forearm, cutting it open. The whores began screaming around us. Where was Matteo?
Junior slashed the knife at me again and I rammed my shoulder into his chest, then grabbed his throat and shoved him into the wall. Grunts and screams rang out around us. Then, the first shot sounded.
I was focused only on Junior. I was going to crush him to fucking dust. I wrapped my second hand around his throat as well then squeezed as hard as I could. “You fucking traitor,” I snarled. Did he think he could kill me?
His eyes began bulging, and I squeezed even harder until the veins in his fucking eyeballs began to pop and his bones crumpled under the force of my grip. He jerked one last time, and I dropped him to the ground. My fingers were covered in his blood.
Slowly, I turned to find Matteo atop another attacker about to cut his throat. “No,” I ordered, but it was too late. Matteo had sliced open the fucker.
Breathing harshly, I took in the mess around us. Cesare leaned against a wall, looking slightly dazed. He had a cut on the side of his neck and was staring down at the dead body in front of him. Romero was breathing harshly, only in his boxer shorts and a gun in his hand. Two whores were dead, and the others were crying and staring at me like I was the devil.
I walked past them toward Romero and Cesare. Romero was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. Matteo staggered to his feet, eyes wide, almost feverish. It was the thrill of the kill I knew only too well. “You crushed his fucking throat with your bare hands!”
