“What’s this about going to Milan?” My father’s booming voice makes me jump. He’s grinning at me, but there’s a hardness in his gaze. I look up at his large frame and force a return smile. I’m not afraid of him like everyone else here is, but even I have to admit he’s definitely a little scary and intimidating.
Reasons why I like to avoid the touchy conversations.
Reasons why everyone bows before him.
True mafia royalty, in the flesh.
I take a long gulp of the champagne sitting in front of me. Liquid courage. A necessity when trying to plead your case to Franco Vitale.
“I was just telling Mama that I’d like to go to Milan. I have a degree in fashion design and merchandising, Papa. I want to use it, and I need to be in the fashion capital of the country to do it.”
“That’s not true,” he says, sitting in the empty seat next to me. “You have the internet. You can work from anywhere!”
I roll my eyes. “Papa, I need a building. And materials. And seamstresses! You know I’ve always wanted to create my own line of clothing. I can’t do that from home!”
“You can’t design and sew out of our house?”
“I can, but—”
“Then it’s settled.” Papa winks at Mama. “And when you create your line, we’ll all go up to Milan and I’ll set you up with all the big buyers and the press, and we’ll make your label a household name!”
“Papa!” I cover my face with my hands. “It can’t be about we anymore! It has to be about me!”
My parents exchange glances, and I throw my hands into the air. “Do I need to spell it out for you? I want to take back my life. After college, I came back to Naples and did everything you asked. I’ve been by your sides for the past two years, but it can’t be this way forever. I need my space. And a career. A purpose!”
“Serena, I told you it’s not a good time,” Mama murmurs. “Franco, I really think we need to have a real conversation about this instead of just dancing around—”
Papa holds up a hand. “Not here,” he mumbles to her. He looks at me, cupping my chin in his hand. “You get that stubborn streak from me.” His lips curl upward and he glances at something behind me before returning his gaze to my face. “Serena,” he says, his voice dropping. “Your mother and I love you more than anything in this world. And the threats out there are very real. They get closer to us each day, which is why we asked you to come back from Milan. It isn’t a smart move to put you out there in the spotlight, especially now. Do you think we slept at all during the four years you were gone?”
“Papa,” I scoff. “I had a bigger security detail on me than the President of Italy. You always had eyes on me!”
He shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter, mi amore. Anyone who is willing to die can get close. You know that.”
“But nobody did,” I remind him. “And you should give me a little credit, too. I’m pretty observant. And I can do things with a gun that most girls my age would cringe at. Actually,” I snicker. “Most guys, too.”
Papa nods. “I promise your time will come. But it’s just not now.” His chair scrapes backward along the polished wood floor and he stands up, a wide smile plastered on his face. His cheeks are a bit ruddy, and I can tell he’s had a few glasses of scotch.
To be honest, with what he does for a living and what he sees pretty much on a daily basis, I don’t know how he doesn’t down a full bottle a day.
He leans down and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Patience, Serena,” he murmurs. “You’ll get everything you want when the time is right.”
My shoulders sag, and I lean back against my chair. I know I’m not going to change their minds. Whatever is out there has them scared. Panicked for my safety. I hear them talking late at night and I know my father’s list of enemies is miles long. I’m not naïve enough to believe that he’s invincible. There are plenty of people angling for ways to stab him in the back and then in the throat to get revenge for things I probably can’t even fathom.
But his life shouldn’t be my life. I’m a Vitale, yes. But I’m also my own person. If they’re going to force me into this existence, then I need something more.
On my terms, not theirs.
Chapter Three
Diego
“I had no idea there was an event going on at the restaurant,” Via says into the phone.
“I don’t believe you,” I seethe. “There are women here, Via. This is like some underground sex den! You fucking sent me in here knowing exactly what I’d find!”
“Grow up, Diego,” she snarls into the phone. “You knew what Salvatore was up to. Maybe you didn’t want to get your hands dirty before. But now that you know, do what you really want to do. Put a fucking bullet into his brain.”
“And what’s in it for you, Via?” I whisper. “I listened to you, I came here to do a job. What the fuck do you get out of it? Are you gonna save these girls?”
She snickers. “Don’t be stupid. Nobody can save them, Diego. Not even you.”
Click.
I rub the back of my neck. For the past ten minutes, I’ve been watching in the shadows, trying to figure out who and what I’m up against down here. The objective was to kill Salvatore. I can handle him and his guys blindfolded. But who the hell knows how many others are down here? I can’t call anyone for backup. My brothers, especially my oldest brother Vince, would flip the fuck out if they knew where I was.
If they knew what I was about to do.
And what I’ve already done to the others who were involved.
No, this is up to me. It’s always been my cross to bear, and I won’t walk out of here tonight until Salvatore Chiaza is dead.
The restaurant has three floors, including the basement where I’m still strategizing my attack. If he’s selling pussy down here and there’s an event on the second floor, then I’m willing to bet the cocksucker is on the first floor. Tucked away in his office where he’s either getting ridden like a thoroughbred or hammered with his guys.
Either way, he’s in for the surprise of his goddamn life.
I take a deep breath and peer down the hallway.
The fuck I can’t save them, Via.
I’m the only one who can.
I creep up the stairs to the first floor, putting my head against the door before cracking it open. Eerily silent. I step onto the carpeted hallway and let out a frustrated sigh.
More fucking closed doors.
He’s here somewhere.
But a nagging feeling tells me I might find more than just Salvatore up here, that Via knew exactly what she was doing by sending me in here tonight.
I grit my teeth. Fuck them. They betrayed my family. Sold us out.
I’ll kill them all.
I take a step forward when a large hand crashes down on my shoulder, shoving me back against a wall.
“Diego Marcone,” a sinister voice hisses from behind a black face mask. “Are you too stupid to realize that your family lost? You had to come here tonight to see for yourself?”
My spine stiffens as realization hits me, and I reach out to yank off the mask. An evil smile lifts the lips of Johnny Longo, Petey’s older brother. His dark hair sticks up in all directions, his gaze dripping with malice. Salvatore’s number two.