Page 5

For a second, everything was perfect.

Then the doors opened, and a man Aella had never seen stepped inside. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with a quiet discipline. His skin held a smooth, deep umber tone that caught the chandelier light, giving a faint sheen to the high angles of his cheekbones. His hair was cut close on the sides with soft texture on top, and a neatly trimmed goatee lined his mouth, making his expressions nearly unreadable.

“Elle, get behind me,” Severo ordered, and she immediately obeyed.

Aella quickly scanned the room for her mother and sister, despite knowing her worry was for naught. There were, at a minimum, a dozen men in attendance who’d pledged to lay their lives down for the three women in the Severo household. None of them would let any harm come to Aella, Ilaria, or their mother, Victoria, without dying first.

Satisfied once she saw they were both out of the way of any potential harm, her eyes turned back to the uninvited guest who had derailed their night.

“Good evening,” he said, voice calm, low, and precise. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“As this is a private, invitation-only event, you are,” Severo’s voice was just as calm.

“Rest assured, I’m not here to ruin the night,” Locke added smoothly. “I’m here as a courtesy and couldn’t help but overhear the joyous announcement.” He eyed Aella pointedly. “Congratulations on acquiring the family business, Sweetheart.”

Severo’s voice held a slight edge as he asked, “A courtesy about what?”

“There are some… concerns regarding your family’s enterprise and a few allegations that I’ll personally be looking into.” The stranger’s eyes met Aella’s again. “I hope the legacy you inherited is as spotless as it appears on paper. I’d hate for it to fall into ruin.” With that, he nodded and inched away, keeping his back toward the door. “You all enjoy the rest of your evening.”

And then he was gone as quickly as he’d come.

Severo didn’t miss a beat as he immediately addressed the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, voice smooth and impeccably measured, “thank you all for joining us tonight. Your support means more than I can put into words. However, with that said,” he continued, letting his gaze sweep the crowd with effortless authority, “my family and I have a few matters we need to attend to privately. I would be grateful if you allowed us this time.”

A ripple of compliance moved through the room. The well-dressed investors, neighbors, and local dignitaries began gathering their coats, muttering hurried goodbyes.

Severo waved over one of his security guards, whispering low enough for only he, the guard, and Aella to hear. “I want to know who the fuck that is within the next thirty minutes.”

Aella felt the air change immediately. The frivolity and applause of the party were replaced with tense, purposeful, and dangerous silence. The party was over, and her turn at the head of their legacy was starting with a blemish she had no control over.

Cassius felt uneasy as he sat in the passenger seat of his father’s car, drumming his fingers against the arm of the door as the sedan pushed through the newly fallen snow with a quiet, unhurried confidence. Long, sleek, and finished in deep obsidian, its body was flawless, the glass subtly tinted, and it was fully reinforced to withstand heavy gunfire.

His father drove without commentary, both hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The dashboard light caught the planes of his face, displaying age and discipline equally. Cassius studied the familiar profile and felt the years’ distance settle between them as the Torrisi estate gradually appeared through the trees.

Known as the Red Barrel House, the manor rose with deliberate grandeur. The brickwork was aged to a rich, deep red and appeared flawless despite decades of winter and sun, each brick perfectly aligned and meticulously maintained. Timber beams, thick and polished, framed the façade, their color a testament to meticulous upkeep. Wide chimneys, iron-capped and symmetrical, drew the eye upward, their perfect lines against the sky suggesting careful design rather than neglect.

Barrels lined one side, dusted with snow, appearing as part of the aesthetic rather than storage. Windows gleamed, clean and sturdy, reflecting the surrounding grounds like glass jewelry. The roof was impeccable, sharp angles shedding snow with precision. Every aspect of the house, from the manicured approach to the carefully maintained façade, radiated wealth and meticulous taste.

Armond glided past the ornate iron gates, the sedan’s tires crunching on the drive, the house looming larger and more imposing with every inch.

Cassius’ unease increased as they drew closer, then came to a complete stop in the circular drive. His father hadn’t shared the details of the summons, just that Severo Torrisi wanted to speak with them, and only them, alone.

The two exited the vehicle wordlessly, trudging through pillowy white mounds and leaving temporary impressions. The cold bit at Cassius’ face as he followed his father up the steps, hanging back as Armond knocked against the heavy front doors.

The doors opened seconds later, and Severo appeared, worry lines etched deeply into his forehead. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Cassius observed the man he hadn’t seen in almost a decade.

Even at fifty-eight, Severo held a quiet, commanding strength. His skin was still dark and smooth, though fine lines traced the corners of his eyes and mouth, hinting at both laughter and hardship endured. Broad-shouldered, standing taller than Cassius remembered, he moved with a controlled, almost predatory grace. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over Cassius briefly before settling on Armond, the faintest shadow of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes tugging at his lips. Without a word, Severo gestured them inside, closing the heavy doors behind them and leaving the winter air outside.

Severo led them through the house, the soft crunch of their boots echoing in the vast, polished hallways. Every detail of the interior spoke of controlled wealth: thick rugs, smooth wood paneling, and the faint scent of aged whiskey lingering in the air. He guided them quietly toward the tasting room, a fortified space reserved for high-level meetings, or so Cassius recalled his father telling him. Thick stone walls and discreetly reinforced doors gave the space an air of impenetrability and kept conversations from being overheard. Years ago, you couldn’t have paid him any amount of money to believe he’d be standing inside the room he’d heard so much about, smack in the middle of drama he promised himself he’d stay away from.

But alas, there he was, on edge as he watched Severo close the door before getting directly to the reason he’d summoned them.

“Cassius, I thought you’d put Whiskey Creek behind you,” Severo extended a hand that Cassius shook firmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“So did I,” Cassius thought, but said, “Likewise.”

Clearing his throat, Severo gestured toward the table in the center of the room. “Gentlemen, have a seat. My apologies for summoning you here at such a late hour, but we have a problem.”