A knock sounded on my office door, but I didn’t answer right away. I needed to get myself situated first. So, I stood, sauntered over to the new bar cart with mirrored shelves, and poured myself a finger of whisky. “Come in,” I called, keeping my back to the door. It was a conscious move, one I knew he would take notice of.
His footsteps echoed from the wooden flooring, then silenced as they met the carpet in my office. I waited, taking a sip of the amber liquid, then turned, capturing his gaze right away. “Uncle,” I greeted, pushing one hand in my pocket.
“Nephew,” he replied, his tone to the point. “You requested my presence.” Uncle Paolo raised a brow, his lips in a straight line, and I knew he wasn’t happy about it. I’d kept tabs on him from the moment I knew he was in the country, which meant I knew exactly what he’d been doing—and who he’d been having meetings with.
“I did.” I dipped my head to the side, not making another move closer. “It’s time you left.”
He laughed, his wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent. “I just got here.” He leaned on his cane, getting comfortable. “Why ask me to come here just to tell me to leave?” He knew exactly what I was saying, but acted as though he didn’t, and it made me want to pull my gun out and fire off a clip right into him.
Fuck.
I clenched my hand in my pocket, trying not to let my anger show.
“You’ve been interfering with business.”
“Have I?” He blinked.
“Yes, you have.” I swayed toward him but pulled myself back at the last second. He was an expert at acting like nothing affected him, and if there was one thing I was going to learn from him, it would be that. “You have no jurisdiction here.” I raised my glass toward him. “It’s time you went home.”
“And if I don’t?” He paced toward the sofa, trailing his finger over the brown leather. “What if I want to stay stateside, hmm?” His gaze connected with mine—a clear warning displayed in his eyes. “The Beretta estate is rightfully mine. Your father died, and therefore, it is mine.”
“No.” I pulled my hand out of my pocket and stepped toward him. The time for being nice had left the building. “This is my birthright. Not yours.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve spoken to The Enterprise.” My heart rate sped up. I knew he’d spoken to them because they’d called me afterward, filling me in on everything he’d told them.
“I know,” I said, feeling like I had one up on him now. “They told me you tried to get their votes to take over.” I grinned, loving the way his face turned red from anger. “They wouldn’t give them to you.” He opened his mouth, but I held my finger in the air to stop whatever bullshit he was going to say. “And even if you had gotten their votes, it wouldn’t have made a difference. We’re part of The Enterprise by choice. Now that I’m boss, if I want to break away from them, I can.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“I would.” I moved over to my desk, leaning on the front of it and crossing my legs at the ankles. “To stop you getting your hands on the business? I’d do it over and fuckin’ over again.”
“You have no respect!” he shouted, advancing toward me with his cane in the air.
I was lightning quick, reaching for my gun in the holster strapped to my chest. I held it in the air, pointing it directly at his face. “Any closer, and I’ll empty my clip into your head,” I warned. My hand was steady, my attention laser-focused. “And I won’t blink twice doing it.”
His chest heaved, his face now turning purple. “You think you can hold a gun at me and get away with it?” He pushed his shoulders back, trying to make himself bigger, but it did nothing to deter me.
“Yeah, I do.” I pushed up off my desk and took two steps toward him. The muzzle touched his forehead, the sweet feel of it against his skin begging me to squeeze the trigger and be rid of him. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t do that. He was still boss of the Italian operation.
“My dad told me all about you,” I said slowly. “He told me what you did to get ahead, the massacres you approved to make it to the top.” I pushed the gun into his face, knowing it would leave a mark. “My dad taught me more than you will ever know.” I paused. “He taught me not to hesitate. Not to hold back. But more importantly, he taught me patience.” Slowly, I lowered the gun but kept it firmly in my grip. “Which is why I give a warning.”
I grinned as I thought about my signature move. The warning was a loss of a limb or extremity. It was usually enough to put people back in their places. There was strength in showing some kind of compassion, but I wasn’t to be taken for a fool. And he was going to find that out. “I give everyone the opportunity to have a second chance.”
“Weak,” he spat. “You’re weak.”
I shrugged, not giving a flying fuck what he thought. “That’s your opinion.” I waved the gun toward my half-open office door. “Leave. Leave my house. Leave my country.” I stood to my full height, towering over him. “And don’t come back unless you’re invited.”
He didn’t make a move. He just stared at me, trying to search for something in my gaze, but he wouldn’t find anything. I’d allowed him to stay this long out of respect, but now I was done. I was done listening to my captains and soldiers tell me who he’d been meeting. I was done finding out he’d tried to undercut my deals.
I. Was. Done.
Uncle Paolo’s shoulders slumped, his gaze finally leaving mine. I smirked as the fight left his body, but I knew better than to let my guard down with him. He’d been the boss in Italy for longer than I’d been alive, and I had no doubt that this wouldn’t be the last I heard from him.
But as he walked out of my office without saying another word, it felt like my first victory. A victory I knew I had to celebrate.
CHAPTER 7
LORENZO