Page 21 of King Of Order

Truth be told, I was enjoying myself a little too much.

She was one sexy woman, and I was thoroughly enjoying keeping an eye on her.

I followed her when she went on walks and exited the house for work.

Appreciating her ass in her jogging tights, as well as her Italian flair combined with casual panache.

She had a talent for wearing fitted dresses, loose pants or skirts, and elegant tops, often paired with stunning high heels.

This sense of style added a layer of confidence to her personality while remaining effortlessly seductive without becoming trashy.

My kind of flair.

My sort of woman, for we Calibreses had a type—feisty, strong, badass.

Like Lorenzo’s Mia - feminine yet with a gun aim that was out of this world.

So too, Cleo, Alessio’s tough yet elegant sprite who’d survived a shit upbringing and now made my brother’s life a dream.

As for me, I’d sworn off women. Not until my vengeance was complete.

Chiara Tirone was the bait, and I could hardly wait to claim my prize.

Cleo’s laugh in the kitchen cut through my thoughts.

Alessio and his woman were prepping lunch with our housekeeper, Mrs Venetio, and their voices echoed through the house.

Their joy was righteous and so welcome.

Especially after the years of grief that this house had suffered.

Before their deaths, our parents hosted intimate gatherings and celebrated milestones, surrounded by love, laughter, and the aroma of beautiful food.

It had stood like a fortress of history and pride, a sprawling testament to my family’s legacy.

It wasn’t just a house but a symbol of our Calibrese values. Of our fierce love and resilient dominance, even in the face of the impending storms that always loomed over us.

Packed with cherished memories, it was surrounded by sheer beauty.

The property stretched over three levels, boasting views that stole your breath. From the moment you stepped inside, the sea greeted you in a breathtaking panorama stretching from Via Posillipo to the sea.

In every corner, I envisioned snippets of the life my three brothers and I had once shared with our father and mother. Each space carried a memory, from the expansive dining room and living spaces to the bedrooms, outdoor fireplaces, sprawling gardens, and a swimming pool.

It was remarkable; it was our legacy.

Eight years ago, the reality that our parents would not be here to celebrate birthdays, new babies, christenings, and weddings with us had been agonizing.

All because Olivio Tirone, Carlo Abrazzio, and Franco Conti had torn them away from me.

Vengeance ran thick in our blood now.

Both Carlo and Franco had been taken care of by Lorenzo and Alessio.

Olivio and his associates remained wholly in my purview.

Chiara’s father destroyed my family, his empire built on the graves of people I loved.

I’d been driven for years now by the singular goal of destroying the man and all he’d involved in the bombing.

---