Page 67 of King Of Order

I had zero concern about him recognizing me.

I’d kept a very low profile in recent years, and most of my adult life had been spent either in London, New York, or Rome.

I lived on an intermittent basis in Naples since my parents’ death, and any online mentions of the Calibrese brothers had long been scrubbed and deleted.

Only Lorenzo, our eldest brother, had a public persona as the face of the family.

The rest of us were shadows in the night.

Both Olivio and I stared each other down, sizing the other up. It took him two seconds to decide he didn’t like me.

I didn’t like him either.

Though not unattractive, his features appeared hardened by years of sneers and scowls.

A furrowed brow made him look older than he was, and something was calculating, almost predatory, in the way he smiled—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

His voice was sharp, clipped, and full of venom when he didn’t get his way.

I figured he wielded words like weapons, throwing insults and accusations like daggers, but underneath it all lay an unmistakable desperation—a need to prove himself, to feel important.

The only part of him that resembled his sister was his tawny eyes, and I nailed his heated fury with my pale blue ice.

I tagged the flash of fear that arced over his face.

‘Who the fuck is this?’ he demanded, his tone even more aggressive as his ego fought to avoid bruising.

Chiara hesitated, caught off guard.

She opened her mouth to explain.

Before she said a word, I took a step closer to her, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her tight to me.

Leaning down, I kissed her head, lingering long enough to make it convincing.

‘I’m her fiancé,’ I said, letting the words hang.

Claudio’s eyes flickered with doubt, but he didn’t back down. ‘Since when? I don’t buy it.’

Chiara shot me a grateful look, then turned back to her brother. ‘Since two months ago. You don’t visit, you don’t care about my life, so how would you have been informed I had a man?’

‘Fotto! You might have told me,’ Claudio groused.

‘I chose not to.’

‘Like you did with father,’ he snarled. ‘Does Aldo even know?’

‘Claudio, let’s not do this right now, and yes, Aldo picked up his call. He’s in Milan and driving back as we speak. Come in.’

With apparent reluctance, Claudio stepped inside her house.

The tension between us was thick, but I maintained my arm around Chiara, ensuring the message was clear: if he were to bully her, he’d have to go through me.

Chiara guided him to the living room, her shoulders tense, but she kept her composure as she pulled up the funeral preparation list on her laptop. ‘I’ve been working through the arrangements, but if you have any input, we can discuss—’

‘I don’t give a shit about the burial,’ Claudio cut in, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I want to know about the accounts. The money. What about the will?’

My jaw clenched. Of course, that’s what he desired.

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