Page 3 of DeLuca: The Devil

I’ve heard of men that will kill other men but not women. That’s not the way it is in our family. A woman’s life is snuffed out as quickly as a man’s. There is no special treatment because you have a vagina, in fact, it’s often worse.

One might think I have higher value because I share his DNA. I don’t. I mean nothing other than what I can do for him.

It’s been hammered into my head for my entire life. Now he wants me to help him take down Domenic “The Devil” De Luca. I laugh to myself on the drive back to my Penthouse. I’ve never met any of the De Luca brothers. Their reputation alone instills fear in grown men. They are lethal. Brutal. Vicious. I have no doubt my father is on a mission to get himself killed. I’m likely to go first. They have eyes and ears everywhere. When I go in and start asking questions about them, I’m dead. My only hope is a pissed off employee. One who will keep their mouth shut. Unfuckinglikely.

After my driver parks in my VIP parking, I get out and make my way into my apartment. Mentally, I’m going through my outfit choices for tonight. Will they know what I look like? Should I conceal my identity? Dye my hair? Apply my make-up darker? The last thing I want is to be on the De Luca radar. My spidey senses tell me that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

I let myself into my apartment and toss my purse on the couch before heading to the bathroom for a long bath. I need to wash his stench from my skin. Just being in the same room with Anthony Baretti makes my skin crawl. If I thought there was a chance, I’d get away with it, there’d be a bullet between his eyes. I will never forgive him for what he did to my mother. And now what he’s doing to me. I suspect this is all a ploy to get me killed. The question is, why, when he could easily do it himself?

I turn on the water and dump some of my rose scented bath oil into the bath. Quickly, I get undressed and fall into my favorite calming place. This bathtub is probably why I bought this place. It’s massive, you could probably fit six people in it. I lay back and close my eyes, allowing the scent to calm me.

If only I could have had some time to prepare. My bucket list will remain unfinished. I’ll never go to Bali. I’ll never have a dog. A husband. Kids. Sex. I’ll die a virgin. My father had strict rules because if ever he decided to marry me off, I had to be untouched. If I weren’t, I’d be killed for costing my father a boatload of money. We live in the United States, where they say we are free to make our own choices, not in my world. It doesn’t matter where you live. You live and die by a certain code. Your wishes be damned.

Forcing myself out of the tub, I drain the water, grab a fluffy pink towel, and dry off. I squeeze the excess water from my hair and go to my walk-in closet to find clothes for my death assignment. Without a doubt, I’m nervous. I’ve heard bone-chilling stories about the De Luca family since I was a child. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m about to find out how much truth there is to those rumors.

Chapter Two

DOMENIC

Few things piss me off more than incompetence. If you’re hired to do a job, it is expected to be completed without pathetic excuses. It’s very black and white. You either did the job or you didn’t. I have no room in my organization for anyone that can’t fulfill their oath. That’s how I ended up in my office at the nightclub I own, Devil, with Lorenzo on his knees in front of me.

“You were hired to bring him to me. Were my instructions unclear?”

“No,” he mutters with trembling lips.

Lorenzo has worked for me off and on, for five years. He knows me well. I’ve killed men for far less. Failing me is a death sentence. Nash Lexington is the exception to the rule. The only reason I didn’t kill him, is because Max was with him. Had he not been his blood would’ve been all over my floor. A war with Max and his family of assassins was not one I was interested in fighting. Rescuing innocent women is not my business. It’s theirs. Max has proven to be an ally more than once. I don’t like to kill off people if they can prove to be useful down the line. I never know when I may need to call in a favor. Lorenzo, however, is not useful after failing to complete an important job, one which could cost members of my family their life. The question remains, did he simply fail? Or is he working for Anthony Baretti?

“I’m sorry, Boss.”

My brother Damian stands beside me, snickering.

Lorenzo makes one half-assed attempt at saving his life, “I was close. Give me another chance, Boss.”

Shaking my head, I laugh as I place the barrel of my gun in his mouth, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

I fire once, killing him instantly.

Glancing at Damian, I put my weapon away, “Get Dante up here to clean up this mess.”

He takes his cell phone out while I raise the blinds on my window. His fingers fly across his screen, as he says, “Eventually you’re going to need to treat him like he’s your brother not an employee.”

Gazing out the window at the club downstairs, “Maybe when he becomes trustworthy, I will.”

Damian groans, “Nobody can hold a grudge quite like you.”

My gaze snaps to him, “You’d be wise to remember that.”

I’m not a man of second chances. Forgiveness isn’t something I’m capable of. The only reason Dante is still alive is because he’s, my brother. If I killed him like I wanted to, my other two brothers would be torn apart. This operation works because my brothers have my back. Well, two out of three do, anyway. I have a scar the size of a bullet on my chest, thanks to Dante. I nearly lost my life all because he’s a fucking idiot. It’s not something I’ll ever forget. When Dante enters my office, I don’t bother speaking to him. I never do. He knows what needs to be done. Besides, I’m far too entranced by the brunette at the bar. She has long, dark hair to the middle of her back. Her small hands hold her drink as she sips from the straw. Fuck. Curves in all the right places, and a plump ass I’d like to sink my teeth into.

“Has she been here before?” I ask Damian.

He looks out the window, unsure of who I am referring to, and asks, “Who?”

I point, “The brunette at the bar. Black skirt. White top.”

“I’ve never seen her here before, but she looks familiar.”

Damian chuckles, “Does she brother? Or do you just want to fuck her?”

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