Beautiful Seduction

CHAPTER1

Valentin

Five men slaughtered, their blood splattered across walls, furniture, and children’s toys.

Five soldiers.

My men, those I’d trained to remain loyal, protecting my family and my wealth and I’d been unable to protect them against an inferior enemy.

Revenge would be sweet.

And bloody.

In my world, peace was almost nonexistent, the act of war bred into my system. Very few people understood the power of influence and there wasn’t a single human soul who didn’t have a hidden agenda.

There was something innately beautiful about violence, bloodshed based on the act of revenge. It brought a sense of internal peace to a vicious world, an understanding that betrayal wasn’t an option.

I’d often enjoyed the thought of teaching lessons, providing an answer to a need that all men found locked deep within their darkest desires. I was passionate about the heavy burden, appreciating the fine art of destroying a human life while still able to control a small portion of humanity.

The drive was insatiable, the satisfaction of inflicting pain personal, a sacred yet indulgent way of handling business.

I’d been called the pain maker, a moniker that had remained with me my entire adult life.

Tonight would certainly not change the tradition or the nickname, only further encapsulating the power I held in my hands.

I’d taken over most of the family operations, my father pushed into an early retirement. He’d seemed weak, a decision made almost ten years before altering our future. The Vincheti family never accepted compromise and that wasn’t going to happen now. It didn’t matter to me about my father’s importance or his level of influence both in our city and up and down the East Coast. Now that I’d taken control, certain aspects of our business were going to change, treaties eradicated. Every betrayal, every single incident threatening my territory would end.

Period.

No matter the level of bloodshed was required.

That’s why my dinner had been interrupted, my esteemed guests ushered from my grandmother’s restaurant minutes after the remains of a delicious dinner had been taken away, a rat brought into the kitchen.

Five of my most trusted men had been assassinated inside their homes. Some fucking asshole had broken in, killing them while they’d slept next to their wives or girlfriends, taking the time to slaughter the women after using them like whores. I didn’t need a testament written down or a group of informants to tell me who was responsible.

Casimine Adamos, the ruthless pig leader of the Polish mafia had declared war on my existence. Maybe that’s because my tactics were entirely different than my father’s. I’d already taken to cleaning up the streets of the crack cocaine introduced by the pompous asshole’s men. Drugs were not allowed in my territories under any circumstances.

His response had been an unacceptable body count, picking off my men just to piss me off.

Giovanni glared at me just before I walked into the kitchen, shaking his head, daring to roll his eyes. He jingled his keys in his hand, prepared to shut down his typical workday. “Don’t leave a fucking mess, Valentin. You know how your grandmother will react.”

My grandmother, partial owner of the restaurant along with my cousin. His glare pissed me off. While he refused to become a part of the family business, his required respect was something he often forgot to acknowledge. “I suggest you spend time planning your next menu, Giovanni, instead of attempting to provide me with any demands. I assure you the place will be spotless.”

“Good. I have a date with my girlfriend. I don’t plan on returning and cleaning up after your ass. Pick somewhere else to handle business. Will ya?”

His girlfriend was a sexy blonde who’d come into his life like a firestorm. Ever since then, he’d done little more than show up at the restaurant, placing more of the burden on my grandmother. I’d deal with his appetite later, reminding him what was most important.

I ignored his comment, pushing my way into the kitchen then glaring at the asshole who’d dared to dishonor me.

I was in one cranky mood, finished with playing games with the sniveling man or anyone else for that matter.

Giovanni snorted from behind me, uttering a string of curse words. We weren’t buddies, his holier than thou attitude because he’d once considered becoming a priest. Unfortunately, the family reputation had become a significant issue, especially after he was almost killed because of his bloodline.

At least he was a man I could trust implicitly. I’d even required his expertise in marksmanship on more than one occasion. Family was family after all.

I faced the fucker who’d dared cross me and sighed. He was quivering, his stark white face a direct contrast to his dark clothing. Fuck. He was already blubbering, the usual response when my second in command brought his hunting knife. Tonight, Brando was tapping the sharp blade between Dylan’s outstretched fingers, the implied threat forcing the man to sweat.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vincheti. I swear to God I didn’t mean to disparage you,” Dylan moaned, issuing the same statement for the second time in less than two minutes. I’d heard every excuse over the years, most of which I ignored, although there was a truthful sound to his pained voice that kept me from inflicting pain.