Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

As I look at her, though, as I take in her beauty, I remind myself of the mission and the plan. That same beauty is part and parcel of all Riccardo Balesteri owned. The beautiful woman before me is indeed an asset.

“What did he do to you?” she asks again, her voice demanding.

“He took everything from me and made sure my family had nothing,” I answer, speaking words I’ve never had to share with anyone. Anybody who knows us already had a good idea of what happened, even if they didn’t know the gory details.

“So, that’s my fault, and I have to suffer for what he did?” she retorts.

“Art of war. Sometimes things happen and the good have to suffer for the bad.”

“That’s bullshit. How dare you say such a thing to me? Look at this place. You have so much. You took so much, and now you’ve taken me to screw with my father. How could you be so wicked? You have so much money.”

“Money is not everything, Princesca. It can’t bring the dead back.” She swallows her words. “Enough. We aren’t talking about this anymore.”

I don’t want to, not with her. Not with anyone.

I stand up, walk back to her, and pull out the box with her ring inside it. She winces when she sees it, but I don’t miss the way her eyes sparkle with surprise when I pop the box open and she looks at the ring inside.

It’s the beauty of it. Even she can’t resist looking at it for what it is.

“Give me your left hand.” Her features become stony. “Emelia, don’t make me ask again.”

She puts out her hand. I take the ring and slip it on her ring finger, feeling the tremble in her hand.

She stares at the ring, closes her eyes tightly, and when she opens them, tears again stream down her cheeks.

“I don’t understand why you’d get something so beautiful for someone you think is nothing,” she states. I grit my teeth pushing aside the emotion that’s threatening to break free and crack the wall around my heart. “Can I go back to my room, please?”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry,” she breathes. “Can I go?”

“Yes.”

She stands, readying herself to flee, but I catch her wrist and hold her in place.

“You’ll pick your dress tomorrow. The seamstress will be here at midday. Make sure you’re ready.”

I release her. She doesn’t answer. She just walks away, and I stare after her.

I wanted to be firm with her tonight, but I feel like the ruthless, heartless bastard I’ve trained so hard to be. I should congratulate myself. I made it.

I should be proud.

I just don’t feel it because I like her too.

Chapter Twelve

Massimo

Tristan walks into my office with a stern expression on his face.

He messaged an hour ago requesting we meet as soon as possible. I had a meeting with some of our top investors, which I rearranged because I know when my brother requests to meet like this, it’s serious.

He skips past pleasantries and stalks to my desk. From the inside of his black biker jacket he takes out a white envelope and sets it down before me.

“You need to see this,

” he states with a firm nod and an etch in his jaw.