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“You’re the Don now, Rome,” Michael says, his voice gravelly. “You call the shots.”
I’ve been preparing to become the next Don since I was only a child. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon. My dad wasn’t set to hand over the position until I was well into my thirties. He should still be alive. Vincent took that away from me. And there will be hell to pay. The De Lucas are famously known for keeping their matters private, but I swear this city will rain blood until the moment my father is avenged.
“Vincent dies before the end of the week,” I pronounce.
Beside me, they both nod. We’ll do whatever it takes.
CHAPTER3
Elena
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I yell over the loud music thumping in the club.
They all nod in acknowledgment, waving me off. I navigate the crowd, doing my best not to face plant on the floor and slapping off the hands of all the over-eager drunk people. Finally, I find myself in front of the bar. It’s much quieter than the rest of the club, farther from the DJ booth.
The bartender flashes a smile at me. “Hey, what can I get for you?”
“Whiskey on the rocks, please.”
He prepares my drink and I wait, whirling around and staring out at the club. I catch sight of the rest of my friends, or more accurately, my co-workers. We’re not close enough to be friends, but they’re the most meaningful relationship I’ve managed to make since I moved to Boston. I went to college with one or two of them. Once in a while, when we’re all stressed from work, we come here on Fridays. At least I have a unit I can do that with. At least they’ll give a shit if I don’t turn up to work on Monday.
“Here you go, gorgeous,” the bartender says, drawing my attention. I open my purse to hand him some money but he shakes his head. “He already paid for it,” he states, pointing to the end of the bar.
There’s a man there with a flirty smile. He’s Black and covered in tattoos. I’m too far away to make out the color of his eyes, but he’s hot. I raise my drink in thanks and smile back encouragingly. I came here in search of a hookup. Someone to fuck my brains out and make me forget all the stress from work. I need to release tension and fast. Thankfully, he seems like the right man for the job.
If he wants something, though, he can come over and say it. I stay at the bar longer than I should, taking sips of my drink and doing my best not to glance at him.
He must grow tired of waiting, because a few minutes later, I feel a presence behind me. I whirl around and the tattooed guy is standing there. Some girls might be a little turned off or scared by his menacing physique. But his appearance is exactly what works for me. I’ve always been drawn to the tattooed, bad-boy type. I suppose a little danger is my thing. Probably because I lived my entire life being bubble-wrapped, treated like fragile glass.
“Hey, beautiful.” His voice is a low, deep purr. If I were a weaker girl, I would have melted at the sound.
“Hi,” I greet with a wide smile. “Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, his brown eyes gleaming. “What’s your name?”
“Elena. What’s yours?”
“Cal.”
“Nice to meet you, Cal.”
He settles on the chair beside me and for the next few minutes, he proceeds to ask me about myself. I respect it. Most guys would have immediately asked if I wanted to get out of here and find somewhere private. But he’s calm, patient.
“I came here with a couple of acquaintances,” I inform him, pointing somewhere behind me.
I have no idea where my co-workers are. My best guess is that they’ve split off, each of them finding their individual interests to pass the time. We usually come to places like this together but are separate by the end of the night. Still, at least he knows I’m not here alone. Just in case he’s a serial killer.
“Hope those friends won’t mind me stealing you away for the night?” Cal questions cockily.
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that? I’m a little too big to fit in your pockets.”
“I can think of somewhere else you’d fit perfectly.” His voice is practically dripping with sexy charm.
Well, there goes my attempt to play hard to get. I place my hand on his shoulder, staring up at him.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. You can steal me all you want.”
My mind is already on the places I would happily let this guy nail me to, starting with a wall in his apartment. I never take men to my place. I like to live life recklessly, but I do keep to certain safety precautions.
