When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

There was conspicuous silence. A new capo I didn’t know shifted uneasily in his seat, eyes scuttling around the table like a beetle. I made a note to talk to him privately.

“It’s nothing,” Rocco stated with a wave of his hand. He settled it on Elena’s hip when he was done gesturing. Subtly, Elena reached over and removed it from her person. “We have it under control.”

“I’m sure you do,” I placated. “But I have an idea that will remove the issue entirely.”

Don Cavalli snorted.

I ignored him, letting the beast over take the gentleman as a savage grin seized my face. “Gentlemen, I’m asking for your support to wipe out the di Carlo family of New York City. I have things in place to sustain this plan without your support, but of course, I want the consent of my Italian counterparts to move forward.”

“War,” Rocco declared flatly.

In his lap, Elena straightened, her eyes alert on me as her mind whirled.

“War,” I agreed with a minute shrug, open my hands to the heavens as if violence was no big thing. To these men, it was not. Aggression and death were as noble to them as God and wine. “They have been pushing for it, it only seems right we give them what they want.”

Rocco scowled, slapping his fat hand to the table, his damp flesh leaving a wet mark on the wood. “We do not go to war without reason, Salvatore. Did your zio Tore teach you nothing?”

“He taught me everything,” I countered coldly, cutting him off when he would have ambled into a long-winded speech. “He taught me that the only way to wash the family honor clean is with blood. La Cosa Nostra has disrespected our family here and in New York for too long. It is time we showed them what happens to enemies of Napoli.”

There was a smattering of murmured agreement from the men at the table, a tangible current in the air as the energy rose between them.

Italians were easy to rile up. Their passions made them easy marks but horrific enemies.

I was counting on both to lend themselves to my case.

“The di Carlo brothers are fighting with the deceased Don’s consigliere for leadership of the family in the States. We used that to cleave the outfit in half. There only has to be minimal bloodshed. The vast majority of the action will take place in cyberspace.” I gestured to Frankie who smiled cruelly. “We will attack their accounts, make it seem as if one party is stealing money for themselves. As if the other is siphoning funds to mount an attack on the other. It’s easily done.”

It wasn’t.

Only a man as talented in the dark web as Frankie could make such a plan work, but confidence and ease were key to making the plan seem like a show-in success for these lazy, entitled fuckers.

“And here?” Paulie demanded. “You got a plan for Napoli?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Rocco interjected, his jowls quivering and flushed as anger overtook his better sense. “You come in here like some hot shot when you’ve been gone six year and don’t know a thing about Napoli today? We’re doing just fine here without the Salvatores. Anyone says different is a lying bastard. Now, you want sanctuary here because you fucked up in New York? I could see fit to grant that to you, out of the goodness of my fucking heart. But you want more than a vacation in this town, you remember who is Don here now. Me. As for this half-baked plan? We can talk about it the moment you agree to wed Mirabella Ianni and not one fucking second soon, you get me, Dante?”

In his lap, Elena stiffened, her eyes flashing like light on the edge of a sharp blade.

“As for Elena,” he continued in a lower register, one hand creeping over her thigh to stroke at the line of her muscle beneath the skirt. “You wanna have her stay with me for a while, I might rethink your options.”

I was the only one who saw the gathering of energy in her long, slim form. She was a woman and a slight one at that, unintimidating despite her height. They never would have suspected what would come next and honestly, if I’d been a smarter man, I would have stopped her before she could show them the biting edge of her anger.

But I couldn’t resist watching the glory of the moment unravel as Elena Lombardi pulled the gun from between her thighs smoothly and leveled it with two steady hands around the grip at Rocco, right on the plump underbelly of his chin.

Right where he’d leveled a gun at me on the airport tarmac.

Around her, the capos sat frozen for one long second, utterly shocked by her masculine audacity.