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As soon as I jumped out, I noticed my youngest brother was in a rush leaving. Tomaso was a good kid who’d been born into a sordid world. He threw out his arm, a boyish grin on his face as I slapped my hand against his, ending with a fist bump.
“Called to the old man’s lair, huh?” he asked.
I laughed as I glanced at the front door, half expecting to see Franco waiting not so patiently. “Summoned is more like it.”
We laughed together but I sensed he was more troubled than usual. “He’s in a foul mood. I think a war is brewing.”
“There’s always a war brewing, little brother.”
He shook his head. “He and Mattia have been at each other’s throats for days.”
Mattia was Franco’s other blood relation, a man who would kill to ascend to the throne.
Even though the wealthy kingdom had been promised to me.
“Don’t worry about it. Concentrate on your studies.” I’d been the only one to encourage him to stay in college, his own father demanding his return to the fold.
“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “I won’t succumb to the old man’s commands. Gotta run. Hot date. That’s something you should consider yourself, much older brother. You’re not getting any younger.”
I acted like I was ready to throw a punch then laughed. Dating was out of the question. Marriage not a possibility, even if I’d been pushed more than once to have a son, heir to the Cosa Nostra.
As if it wasn’t my choice.
After watching him leave, I moved inside and into Franco’s office, immediately heading to the bar. Mattia seemed more agitated than usual, glaring at me the moment I walked inside.
“You obviously don’t care about family meetings,” he snarked.
“Leave him alone,” Franco barked.
The patriarch of the family looked weaker tonight, more tired than he’d been in a few days. There was no formal greeting, no kiss on the cheek. But he knew I was there, his breathing more labored.
I walked in front of his desk, surprised when he jerked his head up, staring me in the eyes. There was something different about them I couldn’t put my finger on. He walked from around his desk, giving me a once over before speaking.
“What is this meeting about?” I asked, tossing Mattia a hard glare.
Franco took his time responding, catching his breath.
“You are a killer, even your hands weapons. You’re well trained, highly intelligent, and you belong to the DeLuca family. Your thoughts. Your emotions. The need to exact revenge burns in your blood,” the still powerful man hissed as he moved around me in a complete circle. His words were always prelude to a massacre. “You will become a force to be reckoned with.”
“Christ,” Mattia said under his breath.
“Enough!” Franco was angrier than usual.
I shifted my gaze toward the son of a bitch, my chest heaving as my adopted father’s dark words sparked another round of the type of anger that had consumed me long before. I said nothing, but a darkness festered inside me, a hunger so intense that my mind had difficulty processing anything but thoughts of what he was saying. How many times had I handled a situation for him, relieving this earth of a cockroach bent on destroying the DeLuca family?
How many times had I thought about putting a bullet in his sadistic head?
“You are also the heir to my entire regime. You’re the only one capable of handling my empire when I’m gone. The time for your savage reign is near. There is a single test of you remaining, but one that will determine your resolve. Once complete, you will have your entire life ahead of you. Money. Power. Women. Everything you’ve ever wanted will be yours. All because I chose you.”
Chose. He made it sound as if I’d begged to be dragged from the filthy streets of Sicily. I’d forged a new life, one where I’d been the master. Then he’d tracked me down, tossing me into a prison until I’d earned my stripes, done so with whips and required bloodshed.
While I heard every word the barbarian issued, there was no trust that he’d follow through with his promises. After all, his blood didn’t flow through my veins. But I would take what rightfully belonged to me if necessary, killing him in the process.
If the ugliness of cancer didn’t do it for me.
“That’s bullshit, Father. I am your son.” Mattia lunged forward, his fists clenched. My brother was a hothead, incapable of separating business from pleasure, his level of violence increasing.
“Non sfidarmi!” Franco’s sharp voice floated across the room. His statement to Mattia to not defy him was met with a curse in Italian under my brother’s breath.
