Page 14 of Knot Your Business

DOMINIC

The house is silent as I close the front door and step into the overstated foyer. Unease settles in my stomach, but I ignore it, pulling out my phone and scanning through the latest betting forecast for the underground fights happening next weekend.

The irony that I enjoy betting on sports when I’ve spent the last ten years enforcing my father’s sportsbook isn’t lost on me. Turns out, gambling comes with the same high that freediving does. And at least gambling doesn’t inherently mean I might not come back. Victor and I have made something of a tradition of betting on Lorenzo’s fights. Not that we’d ever actually tell him. He’d throw the fight just to fuck us over. So far, we have a perfect score.

You see this?

I send the screenshot of the current odds. Victor responds in under a minute.

Bit busy, D. But yeah. He’s fucked.

Chuckling, I walk down the long hallway toward my father’s study. Before I make it there, a man stumbles toward me, his sobs echoing off the tiles and walls. He clutches his bloody hand to his chest, his tears streaming fast enough they’re leaving marks on his shirt. My first instinct is to help him, but I crush it before it can get me in trouble. Anyone sobbing in this home did something to earn my father’s ire. That training rewards itself when Nico turns the corner, following behind the man, his hands shoved into his pockets, his lip pulled up in a sneer. He’s my father’s favorite bodyguard and has the bullet scars to prove it.

I step out of the way before the man can fuck up my suit. That explains why the house is so quiet. Mamma hates being here when Father is conducting this sort of business.

The bodyguard tips his chin toward me.

“È pronto per te,” he says, his low voice gruff and a touch irritated.

“Grazie, Nico.”

The blubbering idiot that decided to cross my father startles as his eyes land on me. The movement has splatters of blood dropping to the polished floor. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Walk,” he orders the man, crowding him toward the foyer. He sighs as he passes me but offers a fast smile just before they disappear around the corner.

I wonder what he did to piss off Father.

I don’t bother asking, continuing down the corridor and sliding into my father’s study, dropping into one of the leather wingback chairs facing his desk. He glances up once I’m seated, his frown so ingrained, I’m half-convinced it’s permanent. The small lines around his lips certainly suggest it is. His hair is more gray than when I saw him a few weeks ago. A thread of guilt weaves through my ribs, but I ignore it.

He could have told me there was no option to get out. He could have forced me to stay, and he didn’t. Whatever has him looking this concerned is no longer any of my business.

“You managed to avoid every single camera on the premises,” he says.

I nod. “I was trained by the best.”

Him. No unwanted press happened unless I was incapacitated. If I didn’t want photos floating around, they didn’t happen in the first place.

“It would have been easier if you had allowed at least one photo, Domenico,” he snaps.

I shrug. “Jasper and Rylan consented to photos. I’m sure theirs are searchable if you care enough to look.”

He scowls but doesn’t comment. He doesn’t approve of my relationship with Jasper. He’s not so bold as to say it to my face, but I know it’s there in the set of his shoulders and his subtle iciness toward my lover when we are here for family brunch every Sunday.

Again, not my fucking problem unless he decides to make his dislike more noticeable.

Without a word, he pulls a small packet of papers from one of the desk drawers and slides them toward me.

“Here is the information on the trust. It’s officially signed over to yours in perpetuity. You will be available for extreme circumstances with me and your brothers.”

I nod and stand.

If Mamma isn’t here, I don’t want to be here for any longer than I have to.

“Domenico,” my father growls, warning ringing through his tone. I pause, keeping my irritation from my face. “Do not make me regret it. You were a keystone of this business, and your absence is already felt. You will make me proud in this now, instead, understand?”

I ignore the tightening of my chest and the sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Certo, padre.”

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