The tech guru ambled into the office. Behind him, his brothers were in their seats, glued to their computers. This was the immune system of my empire, a space where attacks could act or defenses could mount. They had the newest, most innovative tech that money could buy. And the things that weren’t available for consumer purchases? Those, I twisted the arms of defense contractors to obtain. The war room was better equipped than most governments.
Only the best for my guys—my nameless, damn near robotic guys.
“Boss, you wanted to know if there was ever activity in Miss Loring’s accounts.” #2 slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Someone tried to empty her checking and savings accounts.”
My molars scraped hard. “Archibald?”
“Yes.” #2 bobbed his chin. “We won’t be able to stop his draw if he goes into a bank location.”
Since this was a play I expected from the devious sonofabitch, we had a failsafe in place. “You know what to do.”
“He got into the trust!” #3 hollered from the other room.
#2 spun on his heel and hurried back to the war room. I was right behind him. Rounding a bank of computer screens, I leaned in close to a display.
“Can we stop it?” The funds dwindled before my eyes.
“Not these,” #3 grunted. “But I’m already transferring the assets from the others.”
“Good, that’s good.” My hands fisted at my sides.
The bigger question was why. What prompted Loring to drain his daughter's accounts? I doubted he knew about us. Amanda wouldn’t have told him. And it didn’t feel like revenge for Amanda not marrying the earl. Loring would want to keep her playing his games, and this level of manipulation, taking her money—all of it—would mean he wanted her to be helpless. At his beck and call.
Something was happening with that family.
“Pull up the data we’ve compiled on Archibald,” I clipped out. “I want to go over everything.”Again.
Stalking back to my office, I went to the bulletproof window. The Boston skyline glowed in the late afternoon sun. This was my city. Yet, the early summer light felt deceptive. There was a chill lurking on the edges, and I felt it in my bones. An unseen threat was making itself known.
Show yourself.
The sunlight only shimmered on the glass of the adjacent building.
I’d done what I could. It was smart to anticipate Loring cutting his daughter off financially, since that was exactly what he’d done to his younger child, Nicole, when he learned she’d married a mobster. While I had more than enough money to cover the loss, I knew Amanda. She wouldn’t take a cent. Not now. And she shouldn’t be forced to, since she had her own money from the work she’d done asa lawyer. If someday she wanted my wealth, it was hers. Every penny. But that was a faraway future, one where things were good between us.
“Boss, the stocks?” #2 asked through the open door.
I sighed. “Sell the shares. Put the liquid assets with the rest of the capital.”
It was a shame. Amanda had a very stable portfolio. But I wasn’t risking that being stolen from her either. Her money was gone, hidden away, and it might be days before Amanda realized what happened. We’d blocked the communications from her banks and financial institutions, rerouting the news of the travesty. I would keep it a secret that I’d protected the sizable chunk of her wealth, waiting to see how father and daughter played this situation out.
“The updated files on Loring are in your drive,” #1 piped up.
I returned to my desk, pushing aside the Morelli business. The night promised to be long, because I would go back to that project before tackling the demands of my own companies. But first, I was going to reassess my enemy.
Loring was a festering cancer, and it would be a glorious day when I finally pulled the beating heart right out of his rotten chest. My plans to destroy him were a marathon, not a sprint. He was the reason a decade had been stolen from us. He was the force working against me now. But unless I wanted to let go of my revenge and take the easy way, I would have to deal with him on the chessboard.
Going to prison was considered a badge of honor in the mob. If caught, a Made Man served his time, didn’t make deals to rat out his family, and emerged with the hardened soul that made the mafia renowned in history. Many mobsters went to prison and came back prouder for it. Not me. At eighteen, the sentence felt like defeat. When those bars clanked behind me that very first day, I wanted to quit. I wanted to die. The sentence meant separation from the one person I cared about. And only the hope of someday seeing Amanda again kept me from doing something disastrous. But those first few weeks were merely survival.
The day I chose to fight, to exist as somethingmore, was burned in my mind. Don Morelli came to pay me a visit after my second stint in solitary. He’d left a thick book, one that Amanda had read in our senior year literature class. Because I remembered she’d liked the French author, I picked up the tattered copy and devoured the story of a sailor from Marseille who’d been wrongfully imprisoned, and escaped to find treasure on an island and become a count. His power waslimitless, and he took his revenge on those who’d wronged him. And I used his strategy to form my own plans.
I spent my time in prison well. I forged myself physically and mentally. While the weights and pull up bars shaped the body of a boy into a man, and the books I borrowed did the same to my mind, I spent my time usefully. I made friends. I built alliances. So that when I was freed, I had the groundwork laid to rapidly grow my own empire. Protecting valuable assets while behind bars—like Alexei Morozov’s brother or the youngest tech triplet—proved to be invaluable.
The plan for revenge and the knowledge that I would emerge as a force to be reckoned with kept me sane.
Kept me alive.
It culminated into these present moments. Where I had wealth and power at my fingertips. I could protect the woman my heart beat for. I could serve her from the shadows, even as she cursed me in the flesh.
