“Thank you,” I almost choke on my words. This is too much.
“When the time comes to get your vendetta, use it to slice their hearts.”
The image he puts in my head is fucking arousing. I can almost feel the beating organ halting under my blade.
“You are nineteen now and too green for it. They are going to destroy you if you attack now,” he continues.
His words make me grind my teeth with fury. “I can take them, Boss.” I’m big and skilled, and I’ve been working hard in the loan shark sector of the family.
“Not without repercussions. Make a name for yourself first, get more experience, be feared, powerful, and even more connected. Your family has your back, but remember our deal, nothing can take you away from Seb’s side.” I can hear a hint of a threat in his words.
“I remember, Boss.” It started as part of a deal, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else than with Seb and Marco. They are my brothers, and Don Massimo has become my father figure. I can’t disappoint him. I’m here to protect them all. I don’t know if this was part of his plan from the start, but if that’s the case, he’s succeeded.
He grabs the bottle of whiskey and pulls out the lid before starting to pour the amber liquid into the round glasses. He leaves his chair and rounds the table. He hands me one of the glasses and then pats my shoulder.
“A toast to your path, may it be filled with success.”
I down the whiskey in one go. I’ve been sneaking alcohol with Marco and Seb since we were twelve, but the liquid still burns down my throat.
Don Massimo pours more.
“All I want is Jack and Mario Enzino suffering at my hands,” I growl.
He clicks his tongue and pats my shoulder again. “He who seeks revenge should remember to dig two graves.”
I hum. There won’t be anything left to bury when I’m done with them.
Chapter One
LUCA
Present day
The continuous stream of smoke coming from my Toscano floats out of the car window and disappears into the early morning air.
I take another puff, the savory, bitter scent fills my nostrils, and my back relaxes against the car seat. My eyes burn from the lack of sleep. I squeeze them closed, then open a couple of times. Flecks of dried blood remain on my knuckles; I didn’t have time to wash up properly. It’s the only sign that I pounded the face of the fucker who’s been gambling the money he owes the family into the concrete. Stupid dickhead.
I used to be a bruiser, a debt collector in the Leone’s loan shark business, but I seldom do it these days. I needed some venting tonight, though, because of the persistent restlessness I’ve been feeling lately. The reason behind it is about to appear in a few minutes around the corner of the white cast-iron building I’m keeping watch on.
Arturo Enzino. The black sheep. The puppet. His mere name makes my teeth grind and my muscles bulge with anticipation. Over the last thirty years, my grief has turned into a hardened, itching scar, tormenting me every fucking day.
I made a promise to Don Massimo and held my damn side of the deal for too fucking long, following every piece of advice he gave me. Unfortunately, he suddenly died of a heart attack last year, and I stayed near Seb and helped him keep the family together. But now it’s finally time for me to get my revenge.
That’s why when Seb orderedmeto tail the brother of the man I want to disembowel, part of the family I want to erase, I agreed without thinking. But now two weeks have passed, and I’m so fucking tired of this shit.
This Enzino is a creature of habit—bad fucking habit. Shadowing him is not a hard job; it’s a frustrating one. All he does is eat and go to clubs—a quick-fuck-in-the-back-alley kind of guy. Spoiled, weak, careless, trashy brat.
My phone vibrates. It’s another message from Vince, one of the men in my crew. I put him on the brat while I went and beat the crap out of the debtor. He just texted me that Enzino is walking my way.
Fucking finally. It’s five in the morning. How many twirls does his ass need to perform before he feels satisfied? I groan, remembering it’s been two weeks since my dick got some action. It’s turning impatient.
I wiggle on the leather seat and throw the end of my small cigar out of the window before closing it. The sun has just started peeking from behind the buildings across the street when I hear the clicking of high heels on the cement. Tight, black bootsreaching up a pair of long, well-shaped thighs. I can see a dark green skirt and a short, open-knit sweater under the cropped coat. Blond, messy, wavy hair, blue eyes, a button nose, and lush lips wrapped around the long, thick straw in a large plastic cup. His almost elvish features are extremely misleading because he is an Enzino, and Enzinos are highly volatile powder kegs waiting to explode.
He lifts his hand to bite into the red apple he’s holding. I can clearly see the juice dripping down his chin as it turns shiny under the new sunlight. He doesn’t attempt to wipe it off as usual, while it keeps rolling down his throat and then further.
Fuck! I’m too close if I can see that. The windows of my Alfa Romeo are tinted, but he could still recognize the car model since I’ve been watching him for days.
He stops a few feet from his building to hand the small brown paper bag under his arm and the half-full to-go cup to a man sitting on the ground. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him doing it. A drop-off? Dirty money, drugs? It can’t be a simple, caring gesture. That family is not capable of acts of kindness.