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CHAPTER1
MATTEO
FIVE YEARS LATER
The door opens, and Cesare, my consigliere, enters the room with a wry smile.
“Boss.” He nods with respect, and I wave to the chair set before my desk.
“How did it go?”
I reach for my lighter and flick the flame against the finest Cuban cigar, taking a deep drag and then clipping the end, before replacing it in the box.
Cesare barks out a laugh.
“I thought you gave up.”
“I have.” I grin as he settles back in his seat and shakes his head.
“It never ceases to amaze me how gullible rich kids are.”
“So, he took the bait.”
Cesare nods, his eyes glittering with devilish mirth.
“A private booth and champagne on the house to celebrate his birthday. Invites for ten of his friends and a complimentary lap dance.”
“He would be a fool to refuse.”
I glance at the photo on my phone and consider the beauty staring back at me.
“And his girlfriend? Will she be joining him?”
“What do you think?”
Abigail Kensington. Billionaire’s daughter and, by all accounts, the love of Mario Bachini’s life. The one woman he never had and desired more for it. Currently hooked up with Jefferson Stevenson, the son of a powerful Judge and friend of her parents. They are obviously orchestrating a union between their families and Abigail is the pawn in their game, which is a coincidence because she’s also the pawn in mine.
We move onto other business, but I keep the phone with her picture by my side, glancing at it occasionally and familiarizing myself with an important piece of the puzzle. I will use her, probably abuse her and ruin her and it will all be because I am thirsty for revenge.
* * *
Later that evening,I watch from my office as Jefferson arrives with nine of his friends. There is not one girl among them which tells me everything I need to know.
The booth is positioned exactly at the right angle for my security cameras to film every detail, and I wait for the inevitable with a cut glass of whiskey in my hand and the unlit cigar in the other.
Show time.
At first the group is rowdy but not out of line and enjoys the endless champagne I ply them with. Rich kids never question a gift. They believe it’s their right and probably think my establishment is sucking up to them for their business.
My manager is under instruction to make this a night to remember, but it won’t be for their benefit. No, it’s purely for mine to drive my kill into my sights.
Sherrie, one of my most skilled lap dancers, sways across to the booth and proceeds to do what she does best. She gyrates, titillates, and provokes and only when she asks who the birthday boy is, does she strike.
I watch her straddle Jefferson, who appears to be loving every second of it, and he soon has his hands over her as she sucks on his neck.
His friends encourage him on and as she drops to her knees and unzips his pants, their cheers can be heard over the loud music.
The camera zooms in on Jefferson’s face and from the look of it he’s enjoying every minute and when Sherrie pulls back and shifts onto his lap, there’s no mistaking what’s happening now.
