“We met at Bella,” I said, deciding vague but accurate details would serve me best.
“Oh, I love that place!” Jessica exclaimed. “I would almost sell Eli for their mushroom risotto. Almost,” she repeated when Aiden raised his brow playfully. She turned her attention back to me. “I heard that place is owned by the mob,” she stage-whispered.
Her words hit my stomach, spreading a cold and uncomfortable sensation throughout my body.
Aiden rolled his eyes. “The mob doesn’t exist anymore, except in movies,” he scoffed.
“That’s exactly what the mafia would want you to think,” she countered. “Anyway, we’re talking about Sienna’s man, not the mafia.”
As I drained the last of my drink, I was filled with dread, thinking they could be one in the same.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?” she questioned eagerly, leaning toward me in anticipation.
I stared at my friend, at her drunk, hopeful eyes, knowing she was creating a romance that was soft around the edges.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to see him again.”
Chapter Five
Cristian
“I can pay, I just need a few more weeks,” he spluttered.
I sighed, bored and unimpressed by his faux sincerity. My mind was not on this idiot nor on broader business at hand. My mind, as it had been for the past week, was on her.
For the entirety of my adult life, only one woman existed in my mind, and she’d been in the ground for over two decades. I’d been certain I’d never be rid of the thought of her, of her ghost—and I never wanted to be. No other woman mattered to me. I forgot they existed the second they left my bed. Fuck, I forgot they existed while I was still inside of them.
Not this one. She stayed in my mind. Not just the memory of her body, of how it felt to be inside of her. But what she’d admitted to me. What she’d given to me. Her darkest secrets and desires.
But she belonged to another. Or at least she thought she did.
“We both know you cannot pay, Peter,” I sighed, eager to get this weasel out of my sight. “And we both know that you have been afforded liberties that no other would in your situation. It was your family name that got you here, your word that kept you alive, and both of those mean nothing now.” I stood, and he shrunk back, seconds from pissing himself, crying, begging.
“You have disrespected us, Peter,” I continued. “You have disrespected me. And you knew exactly what would happen if you did not pay your debt. You shall pay the price.”
I rounded my desk, preparing to dole out his sentence myself, as the Don had before me in this very room. It was not always this way as I was a busy man, and I had many soldiers to handle business like this for me.
But if Vincentius had taught me anything, it was the importance of keeping blood on my hands, never rising too high above it all. It was those with clean hands who lost control.
Most importantly, this little fucker had shamed me. I’d given him a chance, mercy, and he’d all but spat in my face. He’d come here thinking that he was protected, that he’d get more mercy from me. Which I could not fucking tolerate.
It was a slap in the face, so I had to correct this man.
Although he was manicured, spoiled and not from this world, he realized what was happening, what was about to happen. I knew I had a certain energy about me, knew that people were afraid of me.
And I fucking loved it.
“No, wait!” he held up a hand, scuttling backward to the closed door. Felix was leaning against it, watching with a grin, waiting for him to try something stupid like escape. This compound was sprawling, armed guards around the perimeter, bloodhounds prowling the grass. There was no escape.
Though I didn’t need any of that; it was for appearances only. I may have worked my way up to be the head of this family, but I was also a weapon, even as my hair greyed. I worked out twice daily. Spent thousands on trainers and nutritionists to keep my body strong and my mind sharp. I would not die of old age, that I knew. The second I let myself think I was comfortable, powerful, indestructible, the second I let myself go, I was dead. There was no way I was going to let myself turn into an old man, withering away into nothingness. Even Vincentius at seventy looked almost twenty years younger. Though he was no longer head of the family, he was not to be crossed.
I wasn’t going to wait, of course. I’d heard plenty of people plead for their lives over the years. Begging did not affect me. Nor did whatever promises scoundrels made when faced with death, when faced with the consequences of fucking with me.