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“Should I take care of it, sir?” Bulldog posed the expected question, knowing full well what the response would be.
“Don’t be daft. If it was at all an option, you would’ve already done the job. I can’t afford to be implicated so soon after the fraud fiasco. No, this time, we have to be more careful. I will not fail again. Tanner Wilde and those Triple K bastards fucked me over once. He’s not going to get away with it a second time. Making him pay is going to require proper planning, a foolproof one that would force his hand. Since we’ve been sequestered here, our business has taken a serious financial knock because I’m not there to keep my finger on the pulse,” he sneered around a piece of crispy bacon in his mouth.
“A more severe transportation law isn’t going to happen. Not on my fucking watch.” With a forceful impact, his clenched fist collided with the wooden surface of the table, creating a resounding echo as the breakfast cutlery jiggled in a clattering dance. The intensity of his anger was tangible, yet it stood in stark contrast to the composed countenance of his most loyal bodyguard. Seated across from him, he maintained an air of tranquility as he leisurely sipped from a steaming cup of coffee.
Bulldog held a unique place in Salvitore’s life—a position that transcended the boundaries of mere companionship. He was the closest Salvitore would ever come to having a friend and for that reason he tolerated his seemingly indifferent attitude, though it was far from a façade. Bulldog’s upbringing within a turbulent and unforgiving foster system had instilled in him an instinctive need to shroud his emotions, which he only revealed to the shadows of his past. Sometimes Salvitore doubted whether he had the ability to experience any kind of feelings whatsoever.
“I expected our guest to join me for breakfast.” He waved toward the seat where another plate had been set.
“I assume the little chit is still asleep. I heard her crying late last night.”
“Poor little mite. I suspect she misses her mommy.” Salvitore smirked. “The sooner she adapts to her new home, the better. I will not tolerate tardiness, not even during a time of adjustment. Instruct the caretaker that she better ensure the little princess is present at all meals. She has five minutes to get in that seat.”
“Of course, sir.” Regardless of his size, Bulldog’s tread was soundless as he ascended the stairs.
Salvitore’s grimace deepened as his cell phone’s incessant ringing broke the silence around him. Glancing at the screen, his eyes locked onto the name displayed. With an impatient sigh, he swiped his finger across the screen and answered the call. “About fucking time.”
“Patience, darling. You’re familiar with the adage, all good things come to those who wait.” Anger ran through his veins like an ongoing roller coaster as the woman on the other end purred in a voice dripping with amused sarcasm.
“I don’t have time for your fucking philosophies,” he sneered. “Did you get it?”
“Such refined manners you’ve cultivated,” she taunted in a tone sharpening with indignation.
“You’re very brave with thousands of miles separating us, aren’t you? Just remember, my dear, I’ll be back on U.S. soil soon.”
“Simmer down, darling. I was merely assuming you’d enjoy a little spirited banter amidst all the recent fuck ups,” she tried to backtrack, her attempts at damage control evident. Even in the criminal underworld, nobody was safe from Salvitore’s wrath when his anger ignited, not even a woman. She knew it, just as everyone else did.
“I’m waiting, Cruella.”
“Fuck you, Salvitore. You know how much I hate that name.”
“And you know how much I hate my time being wasted. Answer my fucking question. Did you get it?”
“Of course. I’m surprised that you even have to ask.”
“And? Was I right?”
“Oh, you were one hundred percent spot on. The little chit you have on your hands was indeed adopted as a newborn baby, and your suspicion about the identity of the mother was also correct. I have to tell you; it wasn’t easy to get the information. It was a closed adoption, which means—”
“I know what it means. The records of the birth parents are sealed and are also irrelevant since you managed to obtain it either way.”
“Not exactly.” A momentary hesitation crept into her response. “The biological father’s identity is unknown as it wasn’t recorded anywhere. Not even on the original birth certificate.”
“Not what I wanted to hear, Cruella. It seems your reputation is slipping. Do I need to procure a different resource to find what I’m after?”
“No need. I’ll get it, although it might take a little more time… and some gentle persuasion of the birth mother to disclose his name.”
“Use whatever means necessary, but she stays alive. She’s the reason my wife and kids were compelled to flee back to Sicily. If not for her interference, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic measures to keep them out of the authorities’ grasp.” A humorless chuckle escaped him. “I’ve already figured out how she’ll pay. What better fate than to reunite the bitch with her daughter and then force her to watch the girl’s demise?”
“Oh! Can I come too? It sounds like fun.”
“Not until you have what I need. Now, get back to work. Time is of the essence.”
Ending the call, Salvitore drained the last dregs of his coffee and stood up to refill his cup. A faint movement at the doorway snagged his attention.
“Sleeping late is a bad habit. One I suggest you break immediately. I don’t have much patience for laziness. As part of my family and business, I expect you to pull your weight. There will be no favoritism. It’s not in my nature.”
“I’m not your family. I want to go home!”
