Page 75 of Reckless Royalty

MIHAI

I’m standing with my arms crossed, leaning against the wall of the Main Crown Suite, watching Giovanni pace like a caged animal. His fists clench and unclench, his face a storm of fury that looks like it’s moments away from exploding.

Connor is sitting on the arm of the couch nursing a beer and quiet for once. His gaze follows Giovanni’s every step, like he’s waiting for the exact second he has to jump in and stop him from breaking something.

“I’m close to losing my shit,” Giovanni snaps, his voice slicing through the heavy silence. “That fucker sold us out. I know I shouldn’t be fucking surprised since he hates Chiara, but—” he stops, turning to face us, his dark eyes wild. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out your own father has been betraying everything you’ve been raised to protect?”

I don’t blame him for losing it. I’d be the same way if I found out my father had orchestrated something like this. Hell, I’d probably be worse. But right now, someone needs to keep a lid on Gio before he storms out of here and does something stupid.

I exchange a glance with Nikolai, who’s leaning against the edge of the pool table, his usual smirk replaced by a grim expression.

“G,” I say, pushing off the wall, my voice calm but firm. “I get it. Believe me, I do. But losing your shit right now isn’t gonna fix anything.”

His glare swings to me, sharp enough to cut, but I don’t back down. “What the fuck do you expect me to do, Mihai? Sit here and twiddle my fucking thumbs while my father burns everything to the ground?”

“We get it,” Nikolai says, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “But blowing a gasket isn’t gonna fix this.”

Giovanni spins on his heel to face Nikolai. “I’m not blowing a fucking gasket. I’m deciding how to kill the bastard.”

Connor takes a slow sip of his beer before setting the bottle down. “And I’m sure that’s a solid plan, Gio, but maybe save the patricide for later.”

“We have something that could use your particular mood right now,” Nikolai says, looking at Gio. “Put that rage to good use.”

Gio raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah? And how the fuck do you suggest I do that?”

Nikolai smirks but there’s no humor in it, just a cold, calculating edge. “We’ve got the guy who tried to kill Maddy down in the basement. You want to take your anger out on someone? He’s all yours. And if we’re lucky, he might have a name or two to give us.”

Connor leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “Finally, a fucking good idea from you, Niko. Thought I was going to have to wait another decade for one of those.”

Nikolai flips him off without even looking at him. “Piss off, Con.”

Gio doesn’t need much convincing. His jaw tightens, and he nods, his hands flexing like he’s already imagining wrapping them around the guy’s throat.

“Fine. Let’s see what this piece of shit has to say.”

I lead the way out of the suite, the tension following us like a shadow. The basement isn’t far, but the walk feels longer, heavier, like the weight of what we’re about to do presses on all of us. The moment we step into the cold, dimly lit room, the guy tied to the chair jerks his head up, his eyes wild.

“Fucking hell,” Connor mutters, looking the guy over. He’s bruised, bloody, and barely conscious, but he flinches at the sight of us, especially Giovanni. “He doesn’t look like he’s got much left in him.”

“Doesn’t need much,” Giovanni says, his voice a low growl as he steps forward. “Just enough to tell me who sent him.”

Giovanni steps closer, rolling up his sleeves, his movements slow and deliberate. The guy’s breathing picks up as Gio crouches in front of him, his face calm but his eyes anything but.

“Hey, there,” Giovanni says, his tone almost conversational. “You’re gonna tell me what I need to know. And if you don’t…” He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Well, let’s just say I’m not in the mood to be patient.”

The guy must see the murder in his eyes because he starts to squirm, his breaths coming faster.

“I don’t know shit,” he blurts out, his voice cracking. “I was just following orders, man. That’s it.”

“Whose orders?”

The guy shakes his head, blood dripping from his nose. “I can’t—I can’t tell you.”

“Wrong answer,” Gio growls, grabbing the guy by the front of his shirt and pulling him forward. “You don’t get to hold out on me. Not after what you tried to do.”

The guy’s eyes widen, and he stammers, “I swear, I don’t know! I just?—”

The first punch lands hard, Gio’s fist connecting with the man’s jaw with a sickening crack. The guy cries out, his head snapping to the side, but Gio doesn’t give him a chance torecover. Another punch, then another, each one more brutal than the last.

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