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“I assume you’re talking about the decision I made in regard to Lorenzo,” I said, keeping my tone even and my mind on the gun strapped to the bottom of my desk.
His cheeks reddened, and his eyes widened in fury. “It wasn’t a decision, it was humiliation. You brought shame to that boy.”
I eyed him. “He brought shame to himself,” I countered. “You are well aware of that.”
Marco’s fury faltered. He was not a stupid man, he was just blinded by his affection for the boy. Even more so than his own father. “Lorenzo has made mistakes, but we must remember what he went through.”
I kept my expression even as an image of a torn, bloodied, white dress and lifeless eyes flickered through my mind. “Twenty-five years ago,” I said quietly. “He went through that twenty-five years ago. As a boy. We have given him every chance to grow into the man who would head this family. But you know better than any what he has turned into. What would become of this family if I didn’t do something drastic.”
Marco held my glare, even though he heard the truth in my words. “There are other ways,” he hissed. “Ways that do not take away everything he has.”
“Are there?” I asked. “Please educate me on the other ways to make sure Lorenzo doesn’t get himself killed or destroy the family. I’m all ears.”
Marco continued to glare at me, his cheeks red and bushy brows knitted between his eyes. What he didn’t do was speak.
I made sure to stay silent much longer than was necessary, my silence taunting him.
“Exactly,” I said as beads of sweat built up on his forehead. “This was my only option. Next time you should think it through before coming in here and blatantly disrespecting me and my decisions.” My attention moved from the gun under my desk. “Next time, I doubt I’ll be as forgiving.”
My threat was overt and not empty. Lorenzo needed to be dealt with, once and for all. And if Marco was going to get in the way of that, then Marco was going to reap the consequences.
“He will not take this lying down,” Marco shot back, his tone slightly more even.
“I don’t expect he will,” I agreed.
Marco straightened, gave me a nod and then walked out.
He would fall in line, I knew. As much as he loved Lorenzo, he loved the family more. Deep down, he agreed with me. He knew this had to be done. But in order for him to sleep at night he needed to convince himself he’d fought for the man he still considered a boy.
Dominic came in not long after Marco left. It didn’t surprise me. The two were a pair. Two sides of the same coin. Marco was jovial, warm, respected. Dominic was feared, cold and devoid of any kind of emotion.
Both men were from the generation before me and valuable in different ways. If Dominic resented that Vincentius gave me the title as Don instead of looking toward blood relatives or at his two closest advisors, he never let it be known. The only way I knew he didn’t hate me overtly was the fact I was still breathing. Dominic wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if he thought he could get away with it.
He was a frigid motherfucker, and I didn’t entirely trust him. But over the years, he has stayed steadfast and offered invaluable advice.
Dominic did not have the same affection for Lorenzo that Marco did. In fact, I suspected he had complete disdain for him. He despised weakness, and despite Lorenzo doing everything he could to distract from it, he was nothing but weak.
“Are you here to tell me I made a mistake too?” I asked with a sigh. My mind was on Sienna.
It shouldn’t have been. I had other things to focus on. A summit of the four most powerful families in the country that could mean big things for us. Or it could start a war. Tensions always ran high at such things, with each family scrambling for more power, more territory.
“Yes,” Dominic said, sitting down calmly. “You should’ve killed him.”
Although his response surprised me, I forced my face to stay even. I’d always known that Dominic’s disapproval had increased over the recent years, but I never thought he’d say he wanted him dead outright.
“I’m not ready to kill a Catalano who deserves to be Don by blood,” I replied.
“He doesn’t deserve shit, and we both know it.” Dominic’s expression was blank.
“Perhaps,” I shrugged. “But the decision has been made.”
“He’s not going to be quiet about this,” Dominic continued, obviously not ready to let this go. “He’s going to try and hurt you.”
Fuck, I needed a drink. No, what I really needed was to bury myself in Sienna’s pussy. Needed to see the hatred and hunger in her eyes. Wanted to mark her fucking skin. I wanted to touch her with the hands that had murdered her fiancé.
