The Italian

Wish you were here.

Olivia.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling like I’m about to explode. “Carry on.”

“Nine casinos worldwide, valued at an estimated fourteen billion euro.”

I stare at him as he reads through the list. The room begins to spin.

“Four thousand staff and another eleven hundred personal staff.”

“Personal staff?”

Mario looks up over his glasses and closes the book. He clasps his hands in front of him. “You’re not a stupid man, Enrico.”

I clench my jaw.

“Not all of the Ferrara businesses are reputable.” He pauses. “But it has been vital to keep these parts of the business going in order to support the legitimate businesses. Your grandfather was a shrewd businessman. The generations before him, however, were not. It was those businesses, though, that gave Stefano the funds needed to build an empire.”

“Drugs?”

His eyes hold mine. “Among other things. You will be briefed on that side of the business.”

I drop my head in shame, and Lorenzo puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, son,” he whispers.

“You will need to resign from the police force immediately to begin your training,” Mario says.

“Fuck you. I’ll do nothing of the sort.” I make to stand, and Lorenzo pushes me back down into my seat.

A trace of a smile crosses Mario’s face. “Your father always said that you will be the best leader the family has ever had. He pushed you to be a policeman to learn how the other side of the law works.”

I stare at him, completely lost. “Why?”

“So that you would have an edge over everyone else.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

He smiles sadly. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, son. There are a lot of people who want to take your throne. We have had word that your father’s bodyguards are missing.”

I sit up. “You mean?’

“Our men don’t go missing unless they’re dead. This wasn’t an accident, Rico.”

Anger begins to surge through my blood.

“We think we know,” Lorenzo says, “and we’re waiting for confirmation.”

My eyes flick between the two of them. “Who did this?” I demand.

“Rico,” Mario says as he holds my gaze. “At this point, you have two options. You take the reins, or you prepare to die. Your skin is the next one they will want as a trophy.”

I stare at him.

“Take over the empire… or you and your family—your mother, grandmother, and sister—will no doubt be murdered in cold blood. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Fuck you. I will do nothing of the sort,” I hiss angrily.

He narrows his eyes. “So, you’ll leave it to Andrea then. Or perhaps Matteo?”