My estate sits in the middle of nowhere. It’s private and fortified like a fortress.
I bought it the second I turned twenty-one. My salary wasn’t enough to afford this beast of a house.
Neither was saving every penny.
Nope, it was the inheritance I received from my father’s passing, with interest, that sealed the deal. Because, as it so happened, when I turned twenty-one, my uncle told me aboutthe money he had put aside for me, my father’s portion of the family business.
I drive fast, one hand on the wheel, jaw tight. The road lines blur beneath my headlights. My brain is a fucking mess.
I shouldn’t have married her because every time I look at her, the eighteen-year-old version of me—the boy I killed to survive—tries to claw his way out of the grave.
And I don’t have space for him.
Not anymore.
It’s not long before the Amante estate comes into view.
Iron gates open by the time I reach them, and guards nod me through.
I pull into the courtyard, step out of the car, and straighten my jacket before striding toward the entrance.
Inside, Matteo waits beside the staircase, arms crossed. His dark hair is a mess from running his hands through it. “You certainly took your time.”
I make a show of looking at my watch. “It took me less than an hour to get here.”
“Where have you been the past few days?”
“I was busy,” I reply.
“With what?”
“Not killing someone,” I say, shrugging. “Barely managed.”
“Great,” Matteo sighs, rubbing his temples. “Just what the family needs. A Lorenzo mid-spiral moment.”
“You love my spirals.” I grin, but it’s empty.
He snorts. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walk down the hall to my uncle’s office. Two guards open the doors the moment they see us.
My uncle stands behind his desk. He’s a large and formidable man, despite being in his fifties with graying hair and eyes like polished obsidian. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look relieved. He looks impatient.
“Lorenzo.” He extends a hand. “Good. You’re here.”
I shake it, my expression neutral. “I was told it was urgent.”
“It is.” He gestures toward a map laid out across the table. “Someone is making a move against us.”
“Yes, Father.” Matteo steps forward. “We already confirmed the skimming—”
“This is more than skimming.” My uncle interrupts, slamming his palm on the map. “One of our warehouses was hit. Cash went missing. Product, too.”
“What kind of product?” I ask even though I’m pretty sure I already know.
“The kind we don’t discuss outside these walls,” he snaps.
Rafe stands in the corner with his arms crossed and a hard face. He meets my eyes with a slight nod.
