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My quiet voice gives no sign of the violence churning underneath a façade of calm. “Did Enzo know?”
“What do you think?” The bastard is cocky now, mistakenly believing I’m as fickle as my uncles, as easily tempted to choose money and power over loyalty. “They’re your family. You should know those two are inseparable. Whatever they do, they do together.”
I digest that information with the same cold anger. That can only mean Toma and Gianni are in on the deal. They all plotted against me. They conspired to stab me in the back even as they bent the knee and kissed my hand.
Do my uncles honestly think they can replace me? Do they believe my weak cousins make better candidates for running the business my father built, a business I took over at the age of twenty and turned into an empire in the span of three years?
Fucking idiots.
Traitors.
Hugo leans back and throws an arm over the back of his chair. “Thank me now and pay me later.”
I take in his toothy grin and the certainty of victory that burns with a feverish light in the nondescript blue of his eyes. Presumption is a grave mistake. His error is thinking that because I’m heading the biggest crime syndicate in my country, he and I are the same. They never get it. It’s not about the money or the power. Those commodities are only the means to an end, the currency that buys the real product.
It’s about survival.
It’s about being the strongest or dying.
He’s the weakest of the weak, the lowliest on the bottom of the pile.
“Payment is now,” I say as I push the gun between his legs and pull the trigger.
ChapterTwenty-One
Sabella
I’m about to switch off the lights downstairs and turn in for the night when a car arrives. I watch through the window. The man who gets out under the path lights makes the hair on my nape stand on end. It’s Angelo’s uncle, but I can’t tell which one. They look too much alike, and I only met them once. I can’t make the distinction between them.
He doesn’t knock. Before I can run upstairs and grab the phone, he unlocks the door and walks into the house as if he owns it. His gaze falls on me where I’m standing at the far end of the lounge, close enough to the door to run to the kitchen if I have to.
His smile is nasty. “You look at home here.”
I lift my chin. “So do you.”
His big stomach shakes with his laugh. “Every asset is part of the business. That includes this house. We keep things in the family, you see. What belongs to my nephew belongs to us.”
“Is that why he gave you a key?” I ask with sarcasm.
His reply is flat. “My son was in charge of having this place cleaned after Teresa’s family turned it into a pigsty. He made a copy.”
I don’t ask for what reason. I’m too scared of the answer. I remember the night I met the twins only too well. The man facing me wants me dead.
I never thought I’d be grateful for the cameras in the house, but now I pray that someone is watching. Admittedly, the chances are slim. Angelo won’t be monitoring them—he just told me this afternoon he’d be away on business—and he’s possessive enough not to let somebody else watch me when I could be naked anywhere in the house.
Angelo’s uncle looks around. “I can see why you like staying here. It gives you the freedom to go gallivanting around town.”
I go cold. He knows. Yet he didn’t tell Angelo, or Angelo would’ve mentioned it. Why, if his uncle is aware of my trips to the village, didn’t he enlighten his nephew?
“Is there a reason for this visit?” I pull my cardigan tighter around my body, glad I haven’t showered and changed into pajamas yet. I feel less vulnerable facing him in my clothes. “I’m expecting my husband soon. He won’t be happy to find you here.”
His smile turns patronizing. “Your dearest husband left hours ago by yacht. There’s a big storm on the sea, and it’s moving our way. He won’t make it back before tomorrow.” Watching me with wicked attention, he adds, “If he makes it back at all. The sea can be so treacherous.”
Concern hits me, and then fear sets in. The fear is two-fold. I’m sick with worry about Angelo’s safety, and I’m petrified of being alone with this evil man who knows my husband can’t save me. I’m completely at his mercy.
“What do you want?” I ask, my brusque manner designed to hide how scared I am. “It’s late, and I’d like to go to bed.”
“What did Lieutenant Lavigne have to say?”
