“My boys are good to me.” She pats my cheek before sipping her drink, and I wonder if she is truly happy or if she just puts on a front for Gabriele and me.
* * *
I’m sitting at the glass table in front of the rock pool at my house a few hours later when the security system alerts me to an impending visitor. Drinking from my beer, I pull up the camera feed on my laptop, grinning as I watch Fiero drive his Ducati Panigale up my driveway. Parking alongside my Ducati ST, he removes his helmet and hangs it off the handlebars.
Running a hand through his chin-length white-blond hair, he forgoes the front door, sauntering around the side of my five-thousand-square-foot bungalow. Hidden among the forest, on four acres of land in Oyster Bay Cove, Long Island, my home is my fortress. Only a handful of friends and family has ever been here. I have high-end security systems and a team of armed men guarding my property, and a secure secluded pathway that leads to the private strip of beach I own at the rear of my land.
Snagging a cold beer from the outdoor refrigerator behind me, I pop the cap as my oldest friend rounds the corner of my property and comes into view. “Dawg, you’ve been holding out on me,” he says as he approaches. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
I roll my eyes as I hand him the beer. “Made men are worse gossips than women.”
My best buddy chuckles as he sinks into the seat beside me. “Damn straight. Catarina Conti sure has my old man frothing at the mouth.”
“Any woman trying to challenge norms would have your old man frothing at the mouth,” I reply, pushing my laptop and my research aside for now.
“So, it’s true? You’re marrying her?”
I shake my head. “I told Gabe I’d meet with her, but I have promised nothing more.”
“Pops said she’s sexy as shit.”
I bring my beer to my lips and swallow a couple mouthfuls. The cold bitter liquid glides pleasantly down my throat. “That would make it more palatable, but I’m not being forced into marriage.”
“It would interfere with your contract work.”
“That’s coming to an end anyway.”
He arches a brow. “Already? That’s a little ahead of our schedule.”
“Gabe wants out now. It’s time to step up.”
“Are you ready?”
“As ready as I ever will be.”
He flashes me a grin that regularly has panties dropping all over the city. He clinks his beer against mine. “Soon it will be our time to shine. Our time to lead. That motherfucker DiPietro won’t know what’s hit him.”
“Has your old man relented yet?” I inquire, my gaze automatically drifting to my open laptop.
“You know he’s a stubborn fucker. Claims he has plenty of years left in him yet.” Fiero shrugs, but his jaw pulls tight. He endured a lot of the same shit I did growing up. The difference is, he’s the eldest son in his family while I was the youngest. I was never destined to rule, but it’s always been his destiny. Don Maltese is a sour motherfucker who never loses an opportunity to whale on his heir. He had that in common with my father.
I can’t wait to prove everyone wrong.
“If he won’t back down, we might have to help him along.” I stab him with a solemn look.
Fiero’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he slowly nods. “The thought has occurred to me.”
“You’d do it?”
“If that’s what it comes down to? Yeah.” He exhales heavily, pinning me with ice-blue eyes clear of indecision. I nod, respecting his lack of hesitation. His eyes flick over my head. “What are you up to?” he asks, dragging my laptop toward him.
“Research on Donna Conti.”
“And?” He scrolls down the page.
“I can’t find anything.”
“That’s not unusual within our organization these days. You can’t find something if it isn’t there even with your superior tech skills.”
