I turn to Marianne. “Father’s men? Can any of them be trusted?”
“Luca and Matteo. They’re good men.”
That leaves three other bastards that I have to kill. I reload my weapon and face Marianne. I hand her a gun. “Lock the back doors, then stay in here until I come back, okay?”
She nods, and I turn and walk away, heading back to the beautiful carnage in the living room. I step over the bodies, pour myself a drink, and sit and wait for the guards to return. Sipping at my father’s expensive bourbon—which I don’t particularly like, but it seems like a massive “fuck you” to be drinking it with no enjoyment from the taste or appreciation for the expense—it makes me smile, the clear disrespect of it all.
I hear the guards step through the front door. The silence is interrupted by the sound of heavy boots and muffled voices. They make their way into the living room.
Thethree about to die automatically pull their weapons and train them on me. I look up from my drink, swilling the amber liquid around the glass. It sloshes against the sides, clinging, before sliding back down to join the rest of the alcohol.
“I could have done with this enthusiasm an hour ago, gentlemen. Seems your loyalty has been misplaced. Or overpaid for! Luca, Matteo, please relieve these… gentlemen of their weapons.”
There’s a clatter and a slight scuffle as the roles are reversed and the guns are now trained on them. I step towards Gio.
“So, Gio, how much did Alfredo pay you to betray my family?”
He doesn’t answer, just snarls at me. I pay it no mind. I crack my neck. “Let me know if it was worth it.”
Lifting my arm, I pull the trigger. Luca, who looks more like a surfer than a bodyguard, and Matteo, who is all dark and brooding, press their guns against the other two’s heads, looking to me for guidance, and I nod. They pull the triggers. Two satisfying thuds echo from the high ceilings. I step forward and claim Gio as one of mine, gouging into his flesh, creating my masterpiece, an image that will be undoubtedly mine for eternity. A warning to all those who doubt me or stand in my way.
I wipe the bloody hunting knife across my knee, capturing the moment on my phone for prosperity. And a little for my own morbid sense of achievement and twisted pride.
I step back, smiling down at the bodies, then sit down in my father’s chair. Well, I supposemychair now.
“Luca, Matteo, you have a decision to make.”
Luca, the shorter and leaner of the two, assesses me with a fascinated curiosity, his blue eyes sparkle with anticipation, while Matteo’s deep, chocolate brown eyes study me intently.
“I’ll be taking over as head of the family. You can either stay on or leave. But if you choose to stay, I will expect your undivided loyalty.”
Luca thinks for barely more than a second before he replies. “It would be my honour to stay with you, Miss Bianchi.” He smiles as he tucks his gun back in his holster.
“Matteo?” I take another sip from my drink and raise my eyes to meet his.
“I get to choose?” He frowns dubiously at me, and I give him a tight smile.
“Of course. If you want to leave, you’re free to go. No repercussions, just walk out the front door right now. But if you stay, I will expect you to do whatever I order you to, no questions asked.”
He looks towards Luca, who gives him a small nod, turning back to me. “Then I, too, would like to stay, Miss Bianchi.”
I pick up what’s left of my drink and throw the rest of the bourbon down my throat, relishing in the burn before standing and heading back towards the kitchen. Marianne gasps as I walk through the door, the gun clenched tightly in her hand, shakily pointing in our direction. Luca and Matteo are by my side.
“The others?” She blows out a breath.
“No longer our concern.”
She looks between the two men and smiles. Turning her back to me, she slides the gun into her apron and claps her hands.
“Let’s make a start on dinner.” The others look confused, but she claps her hands again. “Dinner, ladies. Miss Bianchi must be starving.”
I smirk at her back because yes, I’m famished. I tug out my phone and call in the clean-up crew.
I’ve had all my father’s contacts for a while. I’ve slowly been inserting myself silently into his business dealings over the years, and he hasn’t had a clue. Patiently sneaking in back doors, spying on the way he runs his business, and learning what not to do. Although this is the first time I’ll be dealing with them personally, I need to make an impression.
“Don’s Cleaning Supplies, how can I help you?” The woman’s chirpy voice comes through the speaker of my phone as I lay it on the coffee table.
“Cleaning crew, Bianchi residence.”
