Owned by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 3)

Dom’s guards open the door, and we step inside. “Mr. Vincent, we seem to have a problem,” Dom says. “You owe me a lot of fucking money and from the looks of it you have no intention of paying it back. I just can’t have that. Stealing from me is stealing from my kid’s mouth.”

“Isn’t there some way we can work this out? I’m not even the one who has the loan. It’s all in my daughter’s name.” He switched the business license to hers in hopes of escaping his debts and probably trying to run from us. I’ve looked at some of the documents I could get my hands on.

“That’s pretty pathetic of you.”

“She is the one who should be here.” I backhand him across the face, sending his head popping to the side. Dom was right. I’d put a bullet in his head if I had my gun.

“Nico, remember the end game,” my brother says through gritted teeth. I nod and crack my knuckles. I’ve never been one of the enforcers, getting my hands dirty with the blood of our enemies, but now seems like a great time to get started.

Vincent shakes his head, trying to focus. “So you have a deal for me?” This greedy son of a bitch.

I smirk. “You won’t like it, but it does allow you to still steal breaths of life. Ones you don’t fucking deserve.”

“What is it?” His eyes are wide with excitement as if we have any goodwill toward the sick fuck. All I can imagine is my fist finding his face over and over. Before we leave I’m going to dole out a few lessons on Ivy’s behalf.

“You are going to turn the business over to us,” Dom says.

He shakes his head like he has a fucking choice. It’s so damn laughable if I wasn’t already beyond livid. “So you guys are scammers. You suckered me out of my business.” He’s got brass balls, but I’m going to fix that.

“Nico.” I step up to him and gut check the asshole, making him double over in pain before I smash his junk with my two-thousand-dollar custom Tom Ford’s. I move back a step, and stand with my arms crossed, face straight, holding back my urge to kick him in the head.

“See, you need to understand that I’m not a man to be fucked with, and neither is my little brother here. He’s our accountant and doesn’t like to be taken advantage of. When numbers just don’t add up it sends him into a rage.”

“Can’t she…” I punch him right in the face, breaking his nose.

“One more word about your daughter in anything but a loving and admirable way, and I’ll take my time killing you, leaving you washed up on her doorstep as a fucking present,” I warn the bastard.

“Okay, okay,” he says, bleeding with every breath. “What’s in it for me?” God, is he stupid or just a glutton for punishment?

I grab him by the hair and yank his head back. “I’m itching to kill you, but you don’t seem to grasp that simple concept. You get to live. If that’s not enough…we could end you now and take everything.”

“So do we have an agreement?” Domani asks. Nodding his head vigorously, he surrenders. “You sit tight while we get the paperwork ready.”

As soon as we’re in the house, Dom says, “Ice those knuckles and put some antiseptic on them. I might have to let you handle some people that owe us money next time. Then again, I’m betting all that rage is for your little Ivy.”

“Damn right. I’ll destroy anyone that dares come between us.”

Chapter Four

Ivy

When I finally make it through the door at home, I see my stepfather passed out on the sofa, but this time he’s covered in bruises, black eyes with his face bandaged. I wonder if he stumbled out of a bar or something. “Did you fall?”

“Yes. Now mind your damn business.” He’s lying, but it’s not like I give a shit after the world of mess he’s left for me to clean up. Not to mention the lack of electricity. I’ve called the light company, but we apparently owe two grand somehow. They won’t discuss it unless I pay the past due. Assholes.

“I’m trying, but you’re sending me into spiraling debt and threats which I’m sure is what happened to you. Keep your head up so you don’t drown in your own blood,” I say, even though I don’t give a shit if he does. This mess, the pain in my head, the sick fucker wanting payment in a whole different way makes me feel nothing but disgust for the man in front of me.

I walk away and head into my bedroom, hoping that the lights are back on, but I knew he wouldn’t manage to pay the bill. It’s futile to even believe for a moment that I could depend on him. My heart aches, and my head is filled with so much anxiety that I can’t fall sleep easily, so I barely get four hours before my alarm goes off on my phone.