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Where security is tighter than a nun’s pussy.
“Don Cardona,” I say politely.
I imbibe every detail of him, from his smug smile to his lush cream suit. He oozes confidence, luxury, and power.
How unfortunate it is that I can’t make his guts ooze instead.
I force a smile. “How nice of you to drop in.”
He’s much taller than me with a stocky build and decent looks. Groomed better than most celebrities. Smiling wider than a goddamn hyena. Shining like the morning star.
He’s so proud of himself for waltzing in here like he owns the place.
If he walks any closer, I’ll shoot a hole in his throat, I smirk.Watching him suffocate would solve all of my problems right now.
But it really wouldn’t.
“I was just in the neighborhood,” he says while checking his nails. His raspy Brooklyn accent grates as he talks. “I figured I would deliver a warning to you myself.”
“A warning? Just for me?”
He smiles tightly. “Justfor you.”
“What an honor.”
“You flatter me, boy, yet you have no idea the destruction you’re inviting into your home.”
I glance behind him at the crowd of brigadiers itching for a fight. “Last I checked, I didn’t invite you here.”
“Come on, Pavel Sergeyevich. My men are outside. Your men are outside.” He waves his hands ambiguously. “Big fuckin’ deal. Let’s just talk like adults, huh, kid?”
My hackles rise when he steps toward my desk. I grip my gun, feeling the tendons in my fingers shudder regardless of how much I urge my body to chill out. One wrong move will send the whole tower toppling to the ground.
And thenbam. The king and queen are dead before they’re even crowned. Is that how I want my glorious rule to end? It’s barely even started.
“Right. Let’s talk,” I agree. I reluctantly release my gun. “Have a seat. Do you want a drink?”
“Whiskey if you have it. Can’t stand the vodka you people drink.”
While preparing our drinks, I’m distinctly aware of how flustered my men are in the lobby. Soft murmurs drift through the doorway while shoes squeak across the tile. My men know better than to drag their feet. Must be Cardona’s lackeys scuffing up my perfectly polished floor out there.
I twitch with annoyance. A few seconds later, I’m leaning casually against my desk with a drink extended to the man I want dead.
His crowd, his title, and his people will be mine once he’s delivered to the reaper.
And I’ll reap everything he sowed.
“I’ll get to the point,” he states while swirling the amber liquid in his glass. I try not to entertain what that color reminds me of—orwho. “I know about the deal you signed with the Bernadetti brats.”
“Do you?”
His eyebrows rise, but his gaze doesn’t. “And I know about your silly little attempt to unseat me.”
“Sounds like you’re onto something there, Cardona.”
“Your father was never careless like this.”
I purse my lips and shrug. “That’s debatable.”
