Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

Pa and I leave him standing there, stewing in his rage.

That fucker. I wish I didn’t have to see him. Ever. There’s the fundraiser and then the wedding. Other than the Syndicate meetings, that will be it. I don’t want anything to do with him, and I don’t want him near Emelia either.

“Hey,” Pa says, touching my elbow as we stop by my car. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“He got to you. I can tell.”

“It’s alright, Pa. He always gets to me.”

“How are things at the house with Emelia?”

Shit. Everything is shit. “Showing her who’s boss,” I reply because it’s the right thing to say. I can’t tell him otherwise.

“Good. Those people deserve what they get. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I nod and watch him go.

I gotta get this girl out of my head. That’s what. I can’t give anyone ideas that she might be a weakness to me, let alone someone like Riccardo.

I have to keep my head screwed on and follow the plan. Marry her and take her fortune. It should be as simple as that.

She’s just pussy. The spoils of war. A woman to warm my bed and serve a purpose in the grand scheme of things.

That’s what I have to tell myself about her, no matter how taken I am with her.

Chapter Fifteen

Massimo

Getting home at four on a weeknight is extremely unusual for me.

Usually, I’m either at D’Agostinos or the club. But after my encounter with Riccardo earlier, I couldn’t focus on being at either.

At the club, I can chill, but that usually involves fucking. At D’Agostinos, I’d be handling some type of paperwork that I can’t afford to mess with in my unfocused mind, so I got Andreas to fill in for me.

I’m home. Deep down I know why I’m here. I just don’t want to accept it yet.

Fucking Riccardo. That motherfucking dog always knows how to get under my skin. Always.

Always knows what to say to rub me the wrong way, even when I have the upper hand. His fucking words about Emelia stuck in my head.

All damn day, I tried to rid the insults from my mind. But I can’t shake them. I never knew the bastard saw me looking at Emelia at the ball. I never even knew he would have given two fucks about me at an event like that.

That was my fault. My mistake. I dropped my guard and allowed a moment of weakness, oblivious to the fact that my enemy could see me.

But why should it matter?

Why should I care?

Emelia belongs to me now, no matter what.

She’s mine. Nothing can change those signatures on the contract.

So, why do I feel like this? Like it does matter.

Like I want her to want me.