My lips thinned at the mention of the narcotrafficker’s name. Marco Nunez wasn’t mafia—he was worse. A broker with no allegiance, no borders, and no conscience. He went where the money flowed, which meant he would help John and Simon if they could figure out how to continue Victor’s shipments.
“I would steer clear of a wildcard like Nunez,” I warned. “Staking your empire on an alliance with a man with no soul is a treacherous choice.”
John splayed his hands. “You’ve left me no other choice. I won’t submit to you, Michael. You wish to erase the Rossi name and everything Victor built. You want complete dominance over the ports, the business, all of it. You’re too blind to see that a monopoly is dangerous. It leaves us all vulnerable.”
“Not if the monopoly is accepted by everyone,” I said. “Publicly denounce the trafficking and I’ll allow you to run Victor’s other businesses under my fold—”
“I will not answer to you, Michael,” John interrupted. “None of us will. You’ll have to take the Rossi assets by force. Every last one of them.”
Sighing, I gave a resigned shrug. “So be it. I don’t want a war, but if you force me into one, I won’t stop until I win.”
“Or until you’re dead,” John said with grave finality.
My gaze roved over John, Simon and the others. Such a waste of good, young men who wouldn’t see reason. “Until I’m dead or until you all are. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Turning, I walked briskly and confidently through the warehouse and back to my SUV. Sliding in the backseat, I settled in as Enzo and Rocco slid in with me.
“Take me to the Gilded Cage,” I said to my driver.
“Yes, sir.”
The separator rose as I sat back against the leather seats and contemplated. A firm line had just been drawn, and there was no going back.
What was left of the Rossi empire was at war with the Carusos, and I was determined to win at all costs.
Chapter 17
Bianca
After finishing my workout, I showered and asked Burns to help me find a place to work. He showed me to a den that had a lovely wooden desk, and I settled in to set up the laptop. Burns told me the Wi-Fi password before handing me a credit card.
“Mr. Caruso has added you as an authorized user on this card, Mrs. Caruso.”
“Bianca, please.”
“Bianca,” he said with a nod.
Tilting my head, I studied him. “How long have you been here, Burns? What’s your story? What’s your real name?”
His eyebrows lifted. “David, ma’am. I’ve worked for the Caruso family for over thirty years. Michael’s father called me by my last name, and it kind of stuck.”
“Are you British?”
“Yes. My family came to the U.S. when I was ten. My father worked for Michael’s grandfather as a...” he nervously cleared his throat.
“A hitman?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “I’m familiar with how the mafia works, Burns.”
“Er, yes, a hitman. He died when I was sixteen, and my mother had nowhere to go. She became the Caruso’s house manager. When she passed away two years later, I offered to take over as house manager, and Mr. Caruso agreed.”
“You had no other family?” I asked softly.
“The Carusos are my family, Bianca. They’ve been extremely generous to me, and I’m honored to serve Michael as I served his father and grandfather.”
“That’s lovely to hear,” I said, moved by the slight emotion in his voice. “Especially since I’m new to the family and questioning if I moved too fast to marry my husband’s rival.”
“You did what needed to be done,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Things move quickly in our world.”
“They sure do,” I muttered, facing the computer and pulling up my favorite online store. “What’s the limit on the card?”
