Page 103 of Gilded Saint

Like a boat.

Rain splatters the water, sending water up to the sky only to fall back down again.

The front of the vehicle dips forward.

The brown line rises.

We’re sinking.

Falling to the depths.

“Willow, look at me.”

He’s calm.

Resigned?

This can’t be the end.

Chapter34

Two Weeks Later

Nikolai John Ivanov; aka Nick; aka Falcon

A stacked stone fence marks the perimeter of the estate’s cemetery. Some of these gravestones date back centuries, although the weathered dates are impossible to read on the diminutive marble slabs.

When I first acquired this estate, I invited a historian to visit. She found the markers fascinating. I enjoyed fucking her.

The grounds crew maintain the space, but I had them clear a special corner beneath a sprawling oak tree. Alessio Gagliano wanted to bring his daughter home, but I insisted she be buried with her husband on my estate with my family.

Alessio didn’t fight me, probably because he’s too heartbroken to fight. Timing was also on my side.

The Gaglianos’ red-rimmed eyes and dazed expressions speak of parents living a nightmare. Unlike their parents, her younger brother appears incapable of curbing his tears. Aware crying doesn’t convey strength, the teen remains on the outskirts of the gathering.

I allowed the Gaglianos to bring their family priest, a Catholic man who required a significant donation to travel and perform the ceremony. I considered having someone else perform Leo’s service to spite the greedy priest, but this isn’t the time to wage petty battles.

A photographer I hired camps out roadside with a long-range lens. I plan to submit some of her photographs to a local paper. I expect the Gaglianos will appreciate photographs as well.

Caskets encased in a watertight steel capsule rest in deep holes, and black folding chairs are lined up opposite. Lina and I stand in the back to give privacy to the Gaglianos. Plus, I have no desire to hear the priest.

Scarlet Gagliano casts furtive glances in our direction throughout the service. The ginger is debating my proposal. She’s a widow, and from what I understand, she doesn’t have much of a life back in Italy.

My source said she’ll never remarry. She cut off her husband’s dick, let him bleed out, and now men fear her. Rumors say when he was in and out of consciousness and unable to fight her off, she placed his dick in his mouth and clamped a hand over his lips, forcing him to die choking on his penis.

Centuries ago, she would have been accused of being a witch, possibly burned at the stake. His death was ruled self-defense, so she’s free to roam the streets, but the court of popular opinion didn’t rule in her favor. Many of the Lupi Grigi men teach their wives lessons, so my source explained that while it is generally agreed that he took his lessons too far, breaking her jaw and wrist and slicing her with a knife, some believe she deserved it as she was unruly.

Right or wrong, none of the thugs wants her near their crown jewels. Fools.

I hope she accepts my offer.

She’s stunning in her uniqueness. That vibrant, thick, red hair and pale skin don’t blend with any of her family. The shape of her green eyes is reminiscent of her mother’s, but nothing else is. Her father died years ago. I’ll have to dig up a photo because she looks so different to me than the rest of the Lupi Grigi, and her distinctiveness reeks of an illicit affair.

Scarlet’s mother hadn’t been forced to remarry after her father’s untimely death. Sister-in-law status to a wealthy shipping magnate comes with perks.

The mafias and cartels create their own fucked-up world. Their seemingly archaic rules and expectations allow them to function in a society that would otherwise lock them up like the brute monsters and drug lords they are.

In my world, these vast, organized criminal organizations are a necessary evil—a military for ambitious business and banking leaders. Perhaps “enforcer” is the most apt designation.

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