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Chapter 46
Adrian
I was on fucking cloud nine.
Draining the bourbon in one draw, I threw the glass down on the table, smirking. For the first time in my life, something was going right.
Well, a lot of things had gone right over the past few weeks. First, I successfully took back the Cavazzo Mafia—my birthright—from Valentino. Motherfucker had never thought I would be able to do so. Guess again, asshole!
The title was always supposed to be mine. Valentino had tricked Cosimo into giving it to him. But now, everything was back as it should be.
I was on top, and Valentino, well, it was only a matter of time before I had his fucking head sitting on my mantle.
First, though, I had to draw him out. I wasn’t the only one who had some investment in seeing Valentino dead. And as much as I hated to admit it, without Carmine D’Agostino’s help, I wouldn’t be where I was at this very moment.
I fucking hated to lean on the old man, but he opened doors for me that had been previously nailed shut and because of that, I could deal with him for now.
Pouring another drink, I quickly swallowed it before pushing myself out of the chair. I had business to attend to, pressing business.
The hallway led me down a flight of stairs, the air growing cooler despite the fact that the house was heated. Down there, no one could hear the screaming or the shouts for help, which was perfect.
I had unwilling guests holed up in the rooms. Carmine himself gave me free rein of the place, one of his many homes that he still had control over, and I jumped at the chance.
Besides, I had another agenda with D’Agostino. I wanted to learn of his holdings, to find out as much as I could about his business dealings. The old fucker had escaped a life sentence in prison, which meant he had resources I needed to know about.
Resources that would propel the Cavazzo Mafia to the top of the food chain.
To replace him when the time came.
I stopped at the door I was looking for and straightened my shoulders before sliding the bolt free, glancing at the guard who was leaning against the wall. “If he bolts, you fucking shoot him dead. Got it?”
The guard glanced up at me, a sneer on his face. It wasn’t one of my guards but one of Carmine’s, and he clearly didn’t like taking orders from me. “Sure thing, sonny.”
His insult made me want to shoot him right then and there, but I refrained. Carmine’s men hadn’t taken me seriously from the first day that I had gone into business with him, but I was willing to show them that I was more than just someone wanting revenge. I should have been the Don to begin with, not Valentino. I had been born into that position. Just what the fuck was Uncle Cosimo thinking? Giving our family business to a fucking whore?
I always suspected that the old man was losing his marbles. But no matter now. The rightful Don had returned and I planned on keeping it that way, including garnering a prize that I had in my clutches briefly.
I turned away from the guard, yanked open the door, and stepped into the small room. Inside, there wasn’t much to look at, but I wasn’t too concerned about the décor. I was here for the man seated in the metal chair, his hands tied behind his back. Blood crusted his nose and lower lip, his shirt torn open to reveal a mottling of fresh bruises on his chest.
Me personally? I didn’t give a shit about the man. He was Carmine’s, and the guards had already roughed him up the moment they had gotten him subdued.
Nico D’Agostino. Son of Carmine, traitor of the family. The string of titles the old man had for his son was extensive.
To his credit, Nico gave us a run for our money during the penthouse ambush.
The moment I shut the door, Nico raised his head, his eyes burning with rage. “Where is my fucking family?”
I smirked. “They are being taken care of.”
His eyes burned a hole through me, but that was all that he could do. I felt powerful over Carmine’s son, not even fucking caring that he was tied to the chair.
It was where he should be. The fucker should have been dead for what he had done to his own father, to his legacy. To throw it all away like that… over what? Some fucking broad he knocked up by accident? And to work with the Feds and the NYPD?
He was lucky we didn’t string him up on the bridge like the other dead Dons.
His family’s safety should be the least of his concerns.
“You know,” I started. “I believe I’m the son that your father wished he had. Of course, if that was the case, I wouldn’t be able to marry your sister.”
