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Enzo’s eyes grew dark. “Non! Do not touch my son without my permission, Lorenzo.” He pulled a pistol from his waistband and swung the butt against Guido’s temple. The big man staggered, but to his credit, didn’t fall.
“Mi dispiace, capo,” guido bowed to his boss.
“Drago, come.” Enzo gestured for Drake to follow.
Drake complied so as not to end up like Guido with blood dripping down his face. Once the boss’s back was turned, Guido took a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at the wound. He locked eyes with the boy and lifted his hand in a finger gun and lowered his thumb in gesture of pulling the trigger. Guido had set his sights on Drake, and as a typical teenage asshole, he flipped him the bird in response.
Enzo gave Drake a tour of the impressive villa. A metal and wood chandelier hung from the high-ceilinged foyer illuminating the space in a warm, welcoming light. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the polished marble flooring.
Even though he’d grown up in a million-dollar home in Lake Forest, it had nothing on the Tuscan villa. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were on the ground floor. Drake’s room was quite spacious, with a private bath on the first floor. Enzo’s suite and other guest rooms were on the first floor. He made it clear his room and office were off-limits. The upper floor was similar to a dormitory or barracks for the house guards.
A few days later, a reception was held for Enzo to introduce his son to his associates. Drake was angry and resentful of his forced trip to Italy and made sure everyone knew it. He wanted nothing to do with Enzo or his associates and refused to be shown off like a fucking broodmare.
Enzo pulled a picture of Drake’s family out of his back pocket. His parents were sitting on the back patio, while his brother and sister played in the yard. He made Drake an offer he couldn’t refuse. He threatened to kill the entire Walker family if the teen refused his role in the family. He had no choice but to become the son Enzo always wanted.
It hurt to see his family acting like he never existed. Whether Drake was there or not, they were a family. He was the unwanted bastardo they were forced to care for. Even though he was hurt and confused, he couldn’t let Enzo or anyone else hurt them. Resentment bloomed inside his chest, and it was the first step in shutting down his emotions.
For Drake’s 17th birthday, they sent him to his room with a prostituta. There was no gun pointed at the horny teen’s head. He didn’t require much persuasion. She took the lead and dropped to her knees when the door closed behind them. The woman was a pro with her mouth and tongue. Drake didn’t last long, and she swallowed every bit of him down.
A little coaxing had him hard and ready again. She led him to the bed, threw him down, and mounted him. Drake lay there as she rode his dick like a pogo stick until he came again. Outside of physical gratification, there was no satisfaction for him in the experience.
The next morning, his father’s men congratulated him on the right of passage. They invited him to run his first train with them. As the capo’s son, he got first pick at which hole he wanted before the other men took their turns. These women were readily available in the villa and seen as a job perk.
Drake’s moral compass and desires grew darker the longer he spent at Enzo’s side. He joined the men on missions and worked as an associate. He moved up to soldato on his 18th birthday.
Drake would never forget the kickback from the gun. His ears rang for hours. The men clapped for him and cheered him on like a conquering hero.
“Next time, don’t forget the earplugs,” Lorenzo said. “Otherwise your ears will ring for days.”
The blood splatter on Drake’s face made him look crazed, and the smell made him want to vomit. Enzo clapped him on the back, beaming with fatherly pride. He sent Drake to clean up and planned a party to celebrate his son officially becoming a man.
A woman waited for him as he emerged from his shower. Drake looked at her naked body before him and felt no desire; he was completely numb as the last part of his heart that was still soft hardened.
He began having night terrors, hearing the man beg for his life. Drake drowned his sorrows in drugs, alcohol, and pussy. But there were nights so dark that they couldn’t keep his guilt at bay.
Drake asked Enzo about his late wife, Aneska. Her body was never found, and he had played the grieving widower well enough that the Bratva didn’t suspect him. He claimed that a rival family was responsible for Aneska’s death. The Bratva would only accept an eye for an eye, and Enzo could only achieve that by killing the wife of the rival Don.
Once the deed was completed, Enzo left Chicago and recuperated in Italy. He hoped that by biding his time, the Bratva and his rival would weaken themselves. He planned to return and assert his power and influence over Chicago again.
With the blood between the Bratva and Enzo settled, the Bratva no longer endorsed Enzo. They refused to back his return from Italy. Therefore, he sought other means to grasp power. Enzo made arrangements with Don Russo to join their families. Enzo signed over properties and assisted in providing manpower to beat down the Bratva in exchange for his daughter’s betrothal to his son, Drago.
At 22, Drago returned to America with Enzo’s blessing and reunited with his family. He refused to go by Drago and changed his name to Drake. He enrolled in law school not only because Enzo wanted someone on the inside, but because Drake needed to do some good in the world. It was why he became a prosecutor.
He dreamed of leaving that world behind and becoming a paragon of good. But no amount of good would ever wash his hands clean.
That was where Grant Ellis found him…
***
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alessandra couldn’t believe the story she’d been told. Her husband was the heir to the Prazza family. She looked again into the eyes of the bogeyman, trying to reconcile them with the man standing before her. Despite everything, she loved him.
Drake aged before her eyes. He looked pained. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes, and she wished she could smooth his frown lines. He ran his hand through his unkempt hair, as he had a tendency to do when stressed.
His confession devastated her, but her husband had lost so much.
“Do your siblings know the truth about who you really are?”
