CHAPTER 1
My father is dead.
The empire is mine.
My heels clip against the stone marble floor of the family manor. In the background, beyond the large windows, the jagged peaks of the Bighorn Mountain Range sat ablaze with the colors of the setting sun, casting long shadows and painting the sky with streaks of fiery orange and deep purple.
There is power in every stride, with my men at my back and the rest of them waiting in the Grand Room for my arrival. Once loyal to my father, they now belong to me, whether they like it or not. Having a pussy instead of a cock between my legs ever proves to highlight a man’s fragile ego, especially when said woman is the one in charge.
But they’ll bow before me, or they’ll lose their lives. I am my father’s daughter, after all.
I push the doors open hard enough to bang into the console tables set against the back walls, rattling the crystal glasses sitting there and vibrating the framed art on the walls. The men employed as my guards split from behind me to take their stations against the wall.
But the ones around the table do not rise.
Motherfuckers.
I stop dead, sliding my hands into the pockets of my pants. “What is my surname?”
“De Luca,” Rio says from behind me.
“And who was my father?”
“Marco De Luca.”
“And what. Is. He?” I punch out each word.
“Dead.”
Clicking my fingers, I turn over my shoulder and give Rio, my most trusted advisor, a dazzling smile. “Right. Which means?”
“That these fuckers,” Rio flicks his eyes to the men at the table, “Should be standing.”
“And if they do not?” I give my eyes back to the men.
“Then I’ll kill them.” Rio steps closer to my side, reaching behind him, to the waistband of his trousers and his gun. He pulls it out and cocksit, ready for my word.
In the De Luca Manor, the only people allowed weapons are the onesIchoose. And since none of these so-called men are to be trusted, they were stripped before they even entered the house. They’ll face a firing squad if I say the word.
Reluctantly, the men at the table stand. I count seven, but there should be eight.
“Where is my uncle?” I lift my chin; his tardiness is a show of disrespect, but I should have seen it coming.
These men were the most loyal to my family, the ones helping with the decisions, dispatching orders. The most trusted, but that trust ended with my father’s death. If they want to remain with the power they have, they’ll need to swear their loyalty to me.
“Right here, Elena,” My uncle’s slimy voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Anton,” I level my eyes on him, “You’re late.”
He checks the Rolex on his wrist. “So I am.”
I watch him stride with purpose to the table, every man there dipping their head to him in a show of respect.
“Not even an hour in the ground and you’re already showing force,” Anton grins. “I like it, Elena. A little heartless perhaps. Will you not allow us to mournyour father?”
“And did you shed a tear, uncle?” I question, “Or did you rejoice that you’re now one step closer to leading the De Luca line?”
The men around the table shift.
