Page 51 of Crimson Fate

It’s not fear that simmers in my veins but anticipation—the sharpened edge of destiny meeting the whetstone. My jaw sets hard, muscles tensing like steel cables. I can feel the pulse in my temple, a rhythmic drumming that keeps time with my escalating resolve.

It’s like I’m on autopilot as I make the drive to the place I have only been to a handful of times. Most recently, it was for Lorenzo’s sister’s engagement party. As I near my destination and the vehicle eases to a halt, I take a moment to collect my thoughts. The engine idles, a low growl that mirrors the unrest simmering beneath my calm exterior.

I step out of the car, my eyes scanning the surroundings. The quiet street is bathed in the amber glow of dim streetlights. My mind races with plans and contingencies, each thought intertwining seamlessly like a well-choreographed dance. It probably isn’t the wisest choice to come to the DeLuca compound alone, but it’s the only option for two reasons. One, if I genuinely want to establish myself as head of the King family, I need a show of strength and bravery. And two, besides Marco, I don’t know who I can trust in our organization.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air as I walk toward the towering iron gates that guard the DeLuca compound. The sun disappeared on my drive, and now the partial moon hangs overhead, casting an ethereal glow upon the manicured lawn and elegant facade of the estate. Shadows dance along the perimeter, whispering secrets and cautionary tales I can’t afford to listen to.

As soon as I approach, two men immediately stand in my path. “Can we help you?” one of the men asks.

I announce who I am and that I’m here to see Carmine.

“Is he expecting you?” the other man questions.

I hold their gaze, my voice steady and firm. “He’ll want to see me.”

The tension in the air thickens, the men exchanging a glance that speaks volumes. In the silence that follows, I catch a faint whiff of apprehension laced with a hint of curiosity.

One of the men steps forward, his stance defensive. “Look, you’re trespassing on private property.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, a dangerous glimmer in my eyes. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking for permission to enter. I’m telling you I’m coming in. You can either step aside and allow it or explain to Carmine why you didn’t allow me inside.”

“Who did you say you were again?” one of the men asks me, studying me with a look of familiarity.

“Vincent King,” I state.

The two men whisper something back and forth before one announces they need to call the house.

I watch as the man pulls out his phone, nodding at his partner as he dials a number. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my impatience growing.

After a lengthy amount of time, the man lowers his phone, his expression guarded. “Carmine will see you,” he says begrudgingly.

The iron gates open, revealing the grandeur of the DeLuca estate beyond. As I step through, I’m just as unimpressed with the tacky display of wealth around me as I was the first time I saw it. The long drive leads up to a large fountain in the center of a sprawling courtyard. The mansion is on the newer side and utterly void of any character.

As I approach the grand entrance, flanked by towering columns, I’m met by Carmine himself. He stands tall, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back with precision. His massive belly bounces in front of him with each step. His eyes, as cold as steel, are fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“Vincent King,” he says, his voice laced with authority. “To what do I owe this honor?”

I give Carmine a curt nod, my gaze unwavering. “Carmine DeLuca,” I reply, my voice holding an undercurrent of respect. “I think we both know why I’m here.”

Carmine raises an eyebrow, his face a mask of suspicion. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea why you’re here, and I have to say, I’m even more alarmed by the fact you would just show up on my doorstep unannounced. I thought your father raised you with better manners.”

“I felt like I had no choice,” I answer, trying my best to remain calm and collected.

With a gesture, Carmine leads the way into the opulent mansion. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling cast a soft glow that illuminates the lavish furnishings. We make our way through corridors until we enter Carmine’s study. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes line the walls behind the mahogany desk, much like the one in my father’s study. Carmine settles into a plush leather chair behind the desk, motioning for me to take a seat opposite.

I oblige, sinking into the cushioned chair, my eyes never leaving Carmine’s gaze. He leans back, steepling his fingers together as he studies me.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Carmine begins. “He was always very fair in any of our dealings.”

“I prefer to save us both a lot of time and cut to the chase if you don’t mind,” I declare.

Carmine raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You’re definitely your father’s son. No bullshit when it comes to the Kings, huh?”

I return Carmine’s smile with a cold, calculated one. “That’s right,” I say, my voice dripping with determination. “I’m here to tell you that the King organization isn’t interested in helping move your product into New York.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “And I’d appreciate it if you would ask your son to respect when my captains tell him they aren’t interested.”

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