Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

Thirty minutes later, when we drive down the length of the driveway, my heart squeezes with fear when I look ahead to the house and see cars parked up outside and men at the door I don’t recognize. They’re holding machine guns.

“Fucking hell,” Hugo says under his breath.

“Yes, fucking hell indeed. What the fuck is this?” Frankie mutters.

My father hates the men swearing around me, afraid it will taint me. To me it’s foolish to worry over such things when there’s always something bigger to worry about. Like what is happening now.

We park and Frankie gets out of the car first. Both men come to my side when I step out, shielding me, protecting me as they take me by my arms.

“What is happening?” I whisper. Once again, no one answers me.

We just walk. Either they don’t know, or they don’t want to say. They must have been told something, though, because they lead me straight to my father’s office.

I only go in here when Dad wants to talk about my grades or my allowance. Since there’s no reason to speak of either, I can’t even guess what the hell this could all be about.

Frankie opens the door and I tense right up at the scene before me.

Dad is sitting behind his desk with a daunting look in his eyes, his face pale and sweat running down the side of his face. I’ve never seen him look so…disturbed.

Scared?

He looks scared.

Before him in the leather back chair is a man who looks to be the same age as he is. A younger man stands beside Dad, along with Mr. Marzetti, our family lawyer. I’ve never seen these men before in my life, and the way Dad looks has me on edge. Panic surges through me, making me feel like I should run away.

My father is a man most call untouchable, but whatever is happening in here is not good.

The man standing next to Dad is who holds my attention. With his striking appearance and those piercing turquoise eyes, he’s easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that rivets me.

He’s looking at me like he can see straight through me, like he can see right through to my soul. He’s tall and foreboding and has a presence that commands authority.

I sense the same air of authority in the older man. Apart from the eye color, they look similar. So, I guess the younger man is his son. I also guess these men are mafia. They emanate the vibe.

“Emelia, take a seat,” Dad instructs, pointing to the empty chair on the other side of the desk.

Frankie and Hugo release me, and my shaky legs carry me to the chair.

I steel my spine and try to look like I’m not fazed, although I am.

I’m used to people looking at me. I’m used to men looking at me the same way they used to look at my mother. She was very beautiful, and while I don’t profess to possess the sort of beauty she had, people tell me I look exactly like her.

The looks I get now hold that fascination, but there’s more, and I hate that I don’t know what is going on.

“Dad, what is happening?” I’m not usually supposed to speak when it’s clear Dad is in a business meeting. Since this doesn’t appear to be anything of the sort, I push the rules aside.

“Emelia, this is Giacomo D’Agostino,” Dad introduces the older man, and instantly I wonder if the name has anything to do with D’Agostino Inc., the oil company.

I recall it because the name is unusual. It’s Italian, and they’re Italian, but it’s not a name I’m used to hearing.

“Hello, sir,” I say, but Giacomo just looks at me. No an

swer.

“This is Giacomo’s son Massimo D’Agostino,” Dad continues his introductions, pointing to the younger man, who straightens up, giving me a full view of his tall and well-muscled body. His powerfully built shoulders cast an outline over the fabric of his white shirt, showing off the muscle definition.

I won’t be an idiot with pleasantries and manners like I did with his father only to look like a fool when he doesn’t answer. It’s clear they aren’t here for biscuits and tea. There are men with guns outside, and I’m sitting here in my father’s office like I’m waiting to be sentenced.

Instead of looking at either of them, I look at Dad.