I stare down at the blueprint of Salvatore Asante’s fucking monstrosity of a home.
A month.
A whole fucking month, and all we have to show for it is a fuckingoutline.
Thirty days gone, and every single day, she’s—
My hand reaches for the familiar heavy tumbler as I take a sip of the amber liquid. The brandy burns the back of my throat.
I weigh it in my hands.
The crash as it hits the wall doesn’t even dent the numbness. “You’re dismissed. We meet one month from now – and I expect some fucking progressbeforethen.”
The men around me murmur apologies and farewells as they trail out. Only Vito and Rocco stay behind.
Rubbing my hand over my eyes, I drop into a seat. Pull the blueprints closer, so I can study them again – although I’ve looked at them so many times they’re permanently etched into my memory. “I can hear you thinking at each other, assholes.”
Rocco – my enforcer, myfriend, clears his throat. That he even shows that sign of discomfort instead of just blurting out his thoughts is indicative of how much our relationship has changed in the past few weeks.
After I stepped up to claim my seat as the V’Arezzo heir, bathed in the blood of my father.
I need another glass of brandy.
“How long do you intend to continue this plan, Dante?”
I jerk my gaze to his, frowning. “For as long as it takes. You know that.”
He exchanges another glance with Vito, and the barely held lid of my anger threatens to snap. “Say it.”
His shoulders tense. “Maybe… maybe you should consider letting her go.”
Let her go.
Let her go.
The words bounce around in my skull. Slowly, I turn my head to my uncle. He’s watching me closely, that sorrow that never leaves him more present in this moment than it has been for weeks.
“I liked Caterina, Dante.” He holds my stare. “Truly. The girl had fire in her, and I respect that. But she ismarriednow. We’re no closer to getting her out than we were when we started. The Asante estate is a damn stronghold. And… there is much to be done here.”
A careful, veiled reference that the V’Arezzo legacy is slowly falling to pieces under my grasp. With Matteo dictating my every move, the men around me look less convinced every day that I’m the right man for the job.
The secrets line up on my tongue. Ignoring the V’Arezzo issues for now, I focus on Cat. As I always do. “I’m getting her out of there.”
They both look dubious, and I stand, reaching for the bottle and motioning Rocco to take a seat. Slowly, I move over to the door. Check the other side and lock it.
They both watch warily as I move around the room. Checking.
I checked this room twice before the meeting started, but if I have learned anything since that blood-soaked night, it is tonevertrust blindly.
Neverassume.
When I’m done, I retake my seat. My friend and my uncle stare at me as though I’ve lost my mind, and perhaps I have. I push my hair back where it dangles into my face. I need to cut it.
My fingers scratch against my beard as I eye them both. Still debating, even now.
I do not trust anyone anymore.
But I need their help. And if their resolve, their respect for me as theircapo, is wavering, then I will give them another reason.
