Page 36 of Dangerous Devotion

“Crystal clear,” he replied before slipping out the door while the others nodded.

I turned back to the window, my mind racing. If this was true, if Father was truly behind all of this, then this meant war.

I’d be damned if I let him hurt the people I loved.

And I wanted to hear it from him.

I took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and steeled myself for the conversation ahead. With a steady hand, I dialed the number to Salvini Global Enterprises—and my father’s extension—the familiar digits feeling like a countdown to confrontation.

The line rang once, twice, before his gruff voice answered. “What?”

“Father,” I replied, my tone carefully neutral. I could feel all the people in the room staring at me. Was it too bold a move to directly confront him, to have him tell me? “I’ve heard a very interesting bit of information today.”

A pause, then a dry chuckle. “You did? Well, there’s a lot of fake news out there, Son.”

I cut to the chase. “Did you put a contract out on me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I could almost see him sitting in his leather chair, a glass of Scotch in hand, weighing his words.

“And if I did?” he finally said, his voice cold and challenging.

My grip on the phone tightened. “So it’s true then?”

“You sound surprised, Vincenzo. Did you really think you could challenge me and get away with it?” He cackled, and it sounded borderline creepy. “You’re not fit to lead.”

I fought to keep my voice steady. “What’s your endgame?”

He laughed, that harsh, grating, maniacal sound that still sent chills down my spine. “My endgame? To remind you of your place. You can never beat me, Vincenzo. You’re still that weak little boy crying over your mother’s corpse.”

The words stung, but I refused to let him see how deeply the mentioning of my mother’s death cut. He was the one responsible, so how dare he even mention her? “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” he spat. “I tried to make you strong, but you’ve always been too soft. Too sentimental. Weak. You might’ve managed to con everyone else. But not me. You’re not fit to follow in my footsteps. You’re like a cancer, weakening this family.”

I took a deep breath, centering myself. “Great. See you,” I said and ended the call.

My father thought I was weak?

I had been…a long time ago. But he’d beaten the weakness out of me. He’d never managed to make me as self-centered, as bloodthirsty, as unhinged as him.

That was the difference between us.

That would forever be the difference between us.

I turned to face Zotov, my eyes narrowed as I studied him. Despite the information he’d just shared, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing some kind of angle.

Trust wasn’t something I gave away freely, especially not to someone like him.

“Don’t move an inch,” I ordered, my voice low and dangerous.I glanced at Michele, giving him a sharp nod. “If he so much as twitches, put a bullet in him.”

Zotov’s lips curled into a smirk, but he remained still. Smart man.

I jerked my head toward the door, signaling to Dante, Matt, Dom, Alex, and Hawk. “You five, with me.”

As we filed into my office, the familiar scent of leather-bound books and aged whiskey enveloped me. This had been my grandfather’s library—the same as the one in the Staten Island mansion, and both still smelled the same. My nonna had loved to read. And Nonno loved her.

Simple as that.

For a fleeting moment, I was transported back to the other library, to Jemma’s soft lips and the warmth of her body pressed against mine. I shook my head and forced the memory away. This wasn’t the time for distractions, no matter how tempting. I’d forgotten for a moment, gotten lost in fantasies about the future when not even the present was guaranteed.

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