Page 4 of The Casella King

“Fine.” My tone sharp. I return to the other room.

They all stand once again to face me.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Henry asks, and I feel a sinister smile creep across my face as I imagine all the ways I have planned to make them suffer.

“Someone get me my laptop,” I say as I watch the youngest member of the group race out of the room, returning with it in his hands. Grabbing it, I open it, turning it to face them. Their faces resemble shock and disbelief as they watch the screen.

“How?” Henry asks as he struggles to get his jaw off the floor.

“My father,” I say as I shut the laptop, handing it back to the young man.

“He set up bugs in their offices?” he asks, still in disbelief, and I nod. “How?”

“Dominic approached someone on the inside of the Brayford family and convinced them to turn on them. How he did this,I don’t know, but he did, and I say this is to our advantage.” I point to the laptop.

With an insight like this, we will know their every move, their every thought, and their every secret. My father’s only goal was to push them into the ground so deep, that they’d be forced to eat their own shit to survive.

That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“First, we hit them where it does the least amount of damage—their bars.” I point to the tall guy in the corner of the room. “You’re in charge of this, so don’t fuck it up.”

He nods.

“I want all their money. I know they hide it in the back where the large safes are. Rip it out of the walls if you must.”

“Done.” His husky voice fills the room.

“Then, we move to their clubs.” I nod to the bulky guy next to Henry. “Gather some boys and take them down. I want to see the buildings burnt to the fucking ground,” I command.

“Boss, what about their families?” Henry asks.

“I’m so glad you asked, Henry.” I smirk as I grab my guns, placing them in their holsters. “Their sins are mine to judge.”

The material of the dress shirt rubs my neck as I put my blue blazer on. I take a deep breath to prepare myself to meet the woman who will share my bed.

The woman who will take my surname and secure the Casella line.

The only reason I’m doing this is to keep my mother happy. I know she mourns my father a lot more than Nico or I, so I don’t want to upset her further. The only reason I’m entertaining thisis out of respect. Otherwise, there isn’t a chance in hell you could make me do something I didn’t want to.

We approach the church, and Henry parks the Bentley in the designated guest spot. Mother quickly exits the car, and I follow, holding my arm out for her to take. As soon as we enter the church, all eyes fall on us. Half the men stand, bowing their heads in respect as we walk to the front of the pews and take a seat.

The church is old but freshly renovated and whoever planned this ceremony has expensive taste. Flowers adorn the sides of the pews and the archway that runs from the large entry doors of the church to the front. Even amongst all these people, knowing that just yesterday we buried the Casella King, I feel absolutely nothing. To others it might be bizarre, or heartless, but this is me and always has been for a very long time.

My mother points out a blonde in the crowd of people, telling me she is to be my future bride, and all I can do is grit my teeth at the sight of her. There’s no fucking way I’m marrying her. I wouldn’t even give her the opportunity to be on her knees for me. It’s not that she isn’t attractive, because she is, but the idea and notion of being forced into something will never be okay with me, and I refuse to abide bytradition.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I excuse myself to walk out of the church into the garden area when I catch sight of a short-haired brunette running frantically through the rose garden. My brows pull in as I watch her dress catch between the metal of the arch frame, and she cusses so loudly, it echoes throughout the garden.

My heart beats faster with each lunge I take toward the church. I was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. Fumbling with the folders in one hand and my phone in the other, I swirl around the bend into the large archway that starts in the garden and ends at the church, when I am pulled back by a strong tug on my dress.

No, no, no!

Great.Of course my dress would get caught on the metal frame of the arch when I am already late. Dropping my things on the ground, I tug on the hem of my dress that’s latched and intertwined with the wire. I tug and tug, but it’s no use.

I feel sweat beads pooling at my lower back under the hot sun, as I work to untangle myself without ripping my entire dress.

“Fucking hell!” I yell, and I’m startled by a husky voice behind me.

“Do you need some help?” His voice oozes masculinity as he walks around me, coming into my vision, and I almost stop breathing.

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