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I push it all away for now because this isn’t the time to get lost in a Gabriel-induced rage. We need to move.
“You’ll have to hurry,” I rush out. “I don’t want to chance anyone seeing you and ruin any progress we’ve made. Cameras are down on this wing, but Gabriel checks them often. I need to get them back on before he notices.”
I look between Giana and Dante before I leave them alone and return to stand guard as I promised I would. My sister has been begging me for weeks to sneak her in. She wants a few things from her room that are apparently fucking special to her or something. Gabriel is throwing one of his usual soirees tonight, so I figured it would be the perfect time.
I head back down the long corridor and mentally check shit off of my to-do list.
Now that Gabriel Jr. is out of the way, I’m the heir to Gabriel Sr.’s fucking throne. I never wanted that position, never expected it either, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past few months, and I’m fucking done with how Gabriel is running this family.
Loud music booms from the other side of the house as I stand in place, making sure no one comes down this way and finds Giana and Dante in the home. Gabriel is already planning a big attack against the DeSantis crew for spoiling his deal with the cartel.
It’s very unlike him to move slowly, but he’s been on extended trips to Costa Rica lately, supposedly for drugs—but I haven’t seen any benefits of said trips. Stefano has been on a few of these trips with him, but there haven’t been any smugglers assigned that I know of. There’re holes in their stories, and I’ll get to the bottom of that, too.
“Giana needs something from upstairs,” Dante whispers as he walks up behind me.
The man is fucking silent. I didn’t even hear him coming.
“She said it’s a locked floor,” he says as he points upward. “Think I’m safe, or does anyone have a key? Is there a possibility of running into someone?”
He holds up a pair of bolt cutters, and I blow an exasperated breath out from my lips, thinking about what shit G can’t just let go. I’ve got her this far, but of course it’s not good enough.
Women.
I shake my head and narrow my eyes at Dante. “The floor is off-limits to everyone but my father.” The word gnaws at my tongue. “Always been that way. You won’t find anyone there unless they have a death wish.”
I shrug because the man came with bolt cutters; he’s not going to give in, and I’m not going to stop him now. Fucker just needs to hurry his ass up. I can’t say I’m not curious about what’s up there. My main guess is an abundance of money and drugs that he’s trying to hoard for himself to get rich off of. I’ll ask Dante if he notices anything crazy, and I can sneak up there after he and Giana are safely out of here.
I point him toward a doorway at the end of the hall before turning around and resuming my post as he walks away. That man would seriously do anything for my sister. And over the past four months of secretive meetings with the two of them, along with their consigliere and a few of Dante’s long-time friends, I think I’m finally starting to penetrate their walls. Somewhat.
I’m sure a lot of that has to do with G—she can be persuasive—but I’ve let them know I don’t stand by Gabriel’s actions. We all just need to bide our time until there’s a move to make that will give me the upper hand.
Then maybe we can figure out a way to work together.
A drunk woman meanders alone down the dark corridor in front of me, humming to herself as she half walks, half stumbles. It’s clear she’s drunk as fuck, and I don’t have time to deal with her messy ass. She’s pretty, but not little viper pretty. No one holds a fucking candle to my woman.
“Oh my gawd!” she cries when she sees me standing in place. “If it isn’t Niccolò Amato!” She bats her lashes at me, probably thinks she looks real fucking sexy, but all I see is a drunken slob. “Come to the party! Whaddya’ doing all by yourself?”
She reaches me and goes to place her hand on my chest, but I grab her by the wrist and push her away from me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I grit out. “Get back to the party, or get the fuck out of my house.”
“Gawd, what did I ever do to—”
“Niccolò!” Dante screams as he barrels toward me and knocks me off my feet.
Giana comes running not long after, just as Dante lands a punch to my jaw. “What the fuck is going on here? Why the fuck is my sister in your fucking house?”
Giana struggles to pull Dante off of me, and I fling him backward and up against the wall, clueless as to what the fuck he’s talking about.
“What the fuck are you saying, DeSantis? Calm the fuck down!” I yell, probably much too loudly as the drunk brunette behind us gasps. “Ah, fuck!” I scream, pounding the wall with my fist. “Get the fuck out of here. If you say a goddamn word, you are dead. Do you understand?”
She nods and runs toward one of the exits within eyesight.
Dante seethes, practically fucking foaming at the mouth as he yanks his phone out of his pocket. Giana rubs at his chest, talking to him quietly to try to soothe him.
“What happened?” she asks.
“These fucking cocksuckers have Sofia locked in a room up there,” he says and looks at me.
