Page 150 of Devil Mine

I lean back in my office chair.

That’s a surprise. I hadn’t expected the newcapoto try and take the diplomatic route with me.

“When?”

“Now,” Arturo answers. “He’shere.”

Not the diplomatic route then. He wants all out war.

Adrenaline roars to life in my veins. I stand, reach into my desk drawer and pull out a second gun. I check the magazine to make sure it’s full and tuck it into the back of my trousers.

“How many men did he bring with him?” I ask, clinically inspecting the magazine of the gun already in my holster.

“None. He came alone.”

Surprise flares once more and I pause.

Matteo Leone has caught me off guard twice in under a minute now, which puts him way ahead of the curve. He has to know that coming here, and especially coming alone, is a death sentence.

“Alone?”

“He says he wants to discuss a truce.”

“He knows I’m the one who killed his father.”

Arturo shrugs, looking as uncertain as I feel. Being off-footed like this feels like we’re at a disadvantage even though he’s the one who’s defenseless and on my turf.

“What do you make of him?” I ask.

“Young. Cocky. Brash,” he states, adding, “Dangerous. Very dangerous. Easy to underestimate.”

I grunt in acknowledgement and tip my chin at him.

“Let him in.”

Arturo ushers in four more of my men, each with their weapons drawn as they stand at the four corners of the room. And then Matteo Leone saunters in, jacketless with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a care in the world. He’s got an easy grin on his face and pretty boy good looks. He looks more suited to the front pages of magazines than the Underworld and that, combined with his obvious youth at twenty-seven, makes him someone easy to look over. But I see why Arturo told me not to underestimate him when my gaze meets the cold green of his eyes. There’s an edge there that reveals he’s much more calculated and conniving than one might believe on first impression.

He’s been temporarily relieved of his weapons, so he walks in here at my mercy. Every gun in the room save my own are pointed at his head and yet he ignores them with ease. He gives the impression of not having a care in the world.

Alarm bells go off in my head that this is a trap, but I can’t see how it possibly could be.

He plops down in the chair opposite my desk and rests his elbows on either armrests, threading his fingers together over his stomach.

“Interesting tactic, showing up here.”

He grins, a quick flash of teeth before he says, “I’m not one to play childish games.” His gaze turns shrewd and he cuts straight to the chase. “You killed my father.”

He says it with about as much emotion as if we were discussing our tax returns.

The newcapoof the Italian mafia isn’t what I expected him to be. I can already tell that he’s a different adversary than what I’m used to dealing with from the Italians, one that’ll require more brain power than usual.

I welcome the challenge. It’s about time.

“I did.”

He waves a dismissive hand between us.

“I should thank you for doing my dirty work. I’d been trying to think of ways to get rid of the old man. You went ahead and did it for me and I got to keep my hands clean.”

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