envelope in the glove box, gun tucked into my waistband, and a freshly lit fire under my ass.
That fucking wedding dress. I wanted to tear it off her body and stuff it down Big Al’s throat until he choked on it. The sight of her in it feels like reason enough to start a war, but of course, that’d be petty.
Capo’s can’t be petty. They can’t be impulsive, either, which is why it took me a whole week to get my shit in order.
I breathe out fire as I pass through the Cove mansion gates. It’ll be the last time they are left open for me, that’s for damn sure.
Pulling up at the edge of the driveway, I kill the engine and stare up at the house. I’ve played hide and seek in its darkest corners; swum a million laps in its pool. The people inside it are family, and I’m about to sever the tie with the sharpest pair of scissors.
Who thought it’d ever be like this? Not me. I always thought, if I came back to Devil’s Dip, I’d announce it over cigars and whiskey; drop it into casual conversation with a smirk and a halfhearted shrug. Everyone would cheer, raise a toast to me. Welcome back Vicious Visconti with open arms.
But it’s not going to be like that. Instead, they are about to find out how vicious I can really be.
Puffing out my chest, I stroll over the gravel and take the steps up to the house two at a time. A storm is stirring just over the threshold, a buzz of panicked activity. Amelia grabs my arm as she passes. “Have you seen Aurora? We’ve lost her!” Our eyes clash, and she immediately recoils at my expression.
I stride into the dining room. Alberto leaps to his feet, but doesn’t hide his disappointment when he realizes it’s me. Next to him, Tor feigns indifference, but the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat betrays him. Bastard. I want to put a fucking bullet in his head, but surprisingly, the rage I feel toward toward him dwindles quickly. On the drive over, I’d realized why he’d told Rory I’d skipped town. He didn’t want to choose between me and his father, and thought Rory would just go through with the wedding if she thought I wasn’t coming back, and everything would return to normal. But the fact he gave her his car and told me so as soon as I turned up at the house means he’d had a change of heart.
I’m still going to kick his ass, but I’m not going to kill him.
“The stupid little bitch has done a runner,” Alberto growls, smoothing down the front of his waistcoat. “Do you know how fucking embarrassing this is for me?”
My fingers twitch with the urge to grip his throat. Christ, I can’t believe Rory was planning on pushing him off the Devil’s Dip cliff this whole time, but I can’t say I can blame her.
“Alberto. You, Tor and Dante need to meet me in your office.” I’m met with a blank stare. “Now.”
Without waiting for an answer, because I didn’t ask a fucking question, I turn on my heel and stroll into the foyer and to Alberto’s office. A few seconds later, Alberto comes in, Tor just behind him.
He stretches his arms out. “What the fuck, kiddo? This better be important, because we’ve got a lot of shit to deal with right now.”
I glance over his shoulder to Dante in the doorway. He spots me and freezes, his eyes turning pitch black. “I should have known.”
“Known what?” Alberto growls, “Somebody fill me in, now!”
The door opens again, revealing Donatello, a panicked Amelia tugging on his arm. “Think of the baby!” she hisses.
When the door swings open again, I wedge it with my foot. “Donatello, I’ll be honest with you. You’re a straight-laced guy, you have a beautiful wife and by the sound of it, a baby on the way.” Amelia cowers, placing a protective hand on her stomach. “I’d rather not have to put a bullet in your head. There will be no wedding today, and if you stay out of the way, we’ll remain on good terms.” I lower my voice. “And trust me, you’ll want to stay on good terms with me.”
Before he can respond, I slam the door shut. Lock it. When I turn around, I find myself staring down the barrel of Dante’s gun.
“I fucking knew it,” he hisses. “I saw how you looked at her. You’re really going to start a family war over a piece of pussy, Angelo?”
Behind him, Alberto groans. Sinks into his desk chair and rubs a fat hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters into his palm. “Angelo, tell me this isn’t true.”
My glare doesn’t leave Dante’s, and my silence tells my uncle everything he needs to know. “Gesù Cristo. You’re my nephew. More like a son. You’d never do something like this.”
“Always the ones you least expect, isn’t it?” I drawl, side-stepping Dante’s gun and striding over to the desk. I place my palms on the surface and tower over him.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m taking over Devil’s Dip. The Devil’s Preserve is my territory, and Aurora is now my girl. Accept that, and I’ll allow you to keep running shit through my port, and I’ll walk out of here.” I shift my focus to Dante, who still has his gun trained on me. “Hell, I’ll even shake your hand if you’re lucky.”
Alberto thumps the desk with his fist and scowls up at me, venom and betrayal swirling in his eyes. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
Behind me, a safety catch releases.
“I choose the hard way.”
I lazily turn to face my cousin, but while his gun is pointing at me, his gaze isn’t. He’s too busy glaring at Tor, who sits quietly in the shadows. “Are you not going to get out your fucking gun, too?”
He doesn’t move an inch.
“Hard way works for me, too.” I slide the manila envelope out of my breast pocket and hold it up, like I’m presenting evidence in a courtroom.
All the air leaves Alberto’s lungs, and when I glance at him, he’s flustered. Vulnerable like I’ve never seen him. “No,” he mutters, rising to his feet. “No, no, no. Basta, please. Take her, take the girl—”
“I’m not asking for your permission,” I growl, sparks of irritation flashing inside of me. I turn back to Dante, to the confusion softening his scowl.
“What’s going on?”
“Your father has been quite persistent in his pursuit of getting planning permission for the Preserve. So much so that his last-ditch attempt included a little bribe.” I flick the envelope. “An adjustment of his will.”
Dante pales. “Is this true?” No response. His gun shifts from me to his father. “Have you—?”
“Written you out of his will, yes,” I drawl, feigning boredom. “All of you. When Big Al dies, the entire Cove empire is passed on to me.”
A snarl escapes his lips. From the corner, Tor says nothing. “Father, is this true?”
Alberto’s body tenses in defense, but then his shoulders sink. “It’s just business. M-my lawyer told me it’d work. I was going to write you straight back into it after I got the park…”
But Dante isn’t buying it. Not after his father’s drunken outburst at last Friday night’s dinner. Fury and humiliation flicker behind the windows of his eyes as they dart between me and Alberto.
He steels his jaw. “What’s your point, Angelo? It’s not worth the scrap of paper it’s written on, not while my father is alive.”
I suppose it’s the perfect time to change that, then. I whip out my gun and fire one shot. Shit, after all this time, my aim is still as sharp as a razor, because the bullet goes straight through Alberto’s temple. He doesn’t see it coming, and I remember my father didn’t either. I guess you never expect a bullet in your head from a family member.
“What about now?”
Indifference flecks my voice, but inside, I feel alive. My nerve endings buzz with satisfaction, because shit, I’ve been itching to do that ever since I saw the bruise lining under Rory’s eye.
Now, Tor leaps out of the armchair and draws his gun. “What the fuck, Angelo?” Dante stares at me for a beat too long, frozen in shock. And it’s in this exact moment that I know Alberto was right: this cunt will never make a good capo. I could have put a bullet in his head by now, too.
I take an easy step back, just in case.
“You just killed my father,” Dante eventually rasps. His stare grazes over the lifeless body slumped over the desk. The smashed paperweight on the floor, and the blood drip, drip, dripping onto the rug. It smells like iron and danger in here, and I love every fucking second of it.
“Yeah, think so.”
He raises his gun to me again, newfound determination on his face as he takes a deep breath. “So what’s stopping me from killing you?” he roars, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “I’ll put a fucking bullet in your head, and then I’ll find that stupid whore and put one in hers, too!”
“Mmm. See, this is where being a businessman comes in useful. If I die, Rafe and Gabe become beneficiaries of my will. Which now,” I hold up the envelope again, “Includes every bar, restaurant, casino, and hotel in Devil’s Cove.” I take a step forward, my gun-hand lax at my side. “Are you going to go up against both of them, too? Doesn’t sound like a good idea to me, especially when it looks like Tor is also about to jump ship.”
Dante scowls at his brother, who’s still staring at Alberto’s lifeless body. His expression is impossible to read.
“Take the deal, Dante.”
The silence is long and heavy, stretching out between us. It feels endless, and my jaw is aching from grinding it by the time he gives me a reluctant nod.
It’s so small, I’d have missed it if I’d blinked.
I nod too, sliding the envelope back into my pocket. Back away in the direction of the door.
I stop in the doorway and pin Dante with a smirk. “Congratulations on finally becoming Capo. Maybe we can swap tips some time.”
The lobby is bright and silent, filled with frozen servants and distant relatives who all heard the gunshot. I ignore every single set of eyes on me and make a beeline for my car.
Driving back to Devil’s Dip, I feel tired. Detached from my body, following what just happened in Alberto’s office. His blood is splattered on my white shirt, and the gunshot still rings in my ears.
As I pull into the driveway, the front door flies open, and Rory runs out from under the awning. Fuck. My chest tightens at the sight of her, barefoot and swamped by one of the sweaters I left here. No fucking wedding dress, thank god. We stare at each other through the windshield and I make a silent oath to myself: Nothing and nobody will ever fucking hurt her again. Not Alberto, not Dante. Not me.
I couldn’t save my mama from the Viscontis, but I sure as shit will save Rory.
Her chest rises and falls, her perfect mouth slack as she watches me get out of the car and walk past her. She follows me into the kitchen, where Gabe’s men are littered around. Some play cards on the breakfast counter, others take private phone calls in the shadows.
I head to the liquor cabinet and pour out a large whiskey. She stands on the other side of the counter, bunching the sleeves of my sweater in her fists.
“Is it over?”
It’s far from fucking over; in fact, it’s only just begun. But I’d give my left nut to wipe the panic off her pretty little features.
I give a small nod.
She breathes out all the pent-up tension in her lungs and palms the counter. Her head dips between her shoulder blades, and she looks up at me from under her thick lashes. “Now what?” she whispers.
Our gazes clash. Static crackles over the counter. I set my tumbler on the island. Loosen my tie.
“Everybody has five seconds to get the fuck out of my house.”
