Page 95 of Vicious Addictions

Remus’s stare bounces from my face back to the closed door behind me.

“So I guess this is the part where I tell you if you break her heart, I’ll break your face?”

“I guess it is.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” he says before stepping closer until his face is right up against mine. “Instead, I’ll say this,” he adds, his aloof tone turning lethal. “If you hurt her, if you harm my cousin in any way, shape, or form, I’ll make sure to bury you so deep that no one finds your body again.”

He then steps back, his blue eyes filled with the threat he just laid at my feet.

This time, it’s my turn to lean in and whisper in his ear just as menacingly.

“I’d expect nothing less of you, Remus.”

I then step away from him and head towards my room, guilt gnawing at me that hurting Mina isn’t just a distant probability but an immediate certainty.

Maybe I’ll get lucky, and Remus does good on his threat.

A man can only hope.

Chapter 16

Jude

Twenty-three years old

Lord Victor Crane is one of—if notthe—deadliest mob bosses in all of England, but you wouldn’t know it by the look of him.

At first glance, he appears like any other English lord featured in the high society pages. From the centuries-old Georgian manor that he calls home to his stylishly tailored tweed suits and brown loafers, Victor goes to great lengths to embody the front of a poshly refined gentleman whose behavior aligns with the highest standards of propriety.

You would assume that a man whose lineage is a few steps away from royalty would be stern and unapproachable. However, after five minutes in his presence, you would quickly learn that appearances can be deceiving—in more ways than one.

Always quick to smile, Victor is as down-to-earth as they come. With his ample belly and long, white beard that fails to cover his rosy cheeks, he looks more like a jolly animated version of Santa Claus than a mob boss. And that is what makes him so lethal.

You wouldn’t expect a man who looks like he spends his days wrapping presents for all the good little boys and girls to slit your throat with unfazed ease. But I’ve seen firsthand how his sophisticated I and easy-going demeanor can turn on a dime if provoked. And though that realization may be terrifying to some, it has been highly educational to me.

Alongside Felix, Victor has become the tutor I always imagined my father would be one day.

But alas, Vincent Amato Romano has no intention of welcoming me into the underground world of the Chicago syndicate, much less teaching me the ropes.

And that’s all thanks to my mother, the red queen herself—Selene Bianchi Romano. Her word is law, as far as my father is concerned. And as long as my overly protective mother insists on me not being inducted into the family business, that’s the way it will remain.

Hence the reason for fleeing to London under the guise of attending university to complete my business degree, away from my family’s tight chokehold. Here, I was finally able to learn everything I needed to become my mother’s worst fear—amade man.And I owe my tutelage and my gratitude to Victor Crane.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask after stepping into Victor’s office. I’m instantly greeted by the trophies of his hunts—heads of mighty stags and other game—all proudly mounted around the room’s walls. Every time I walk into Victor’s office, I can’t shake the feeling that if he could, he would instead decorate the room with the heads of his enemies without batting an eye. But since that isn’t becoming of a gentleman, he has to content himself with exhibiting kills more befitting of his station.

The only other thing that speaks to Victor’s darker inclinations is the heavy, mahogany furniture that fills the room, from the massive desk he currently sits behind to the bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes and ledgers that chronicle the long and bloody history of the Crane empire.

“Take a seat, Jude,” he orders with an uncharacteristic somber tone.

I do as he says and don’t question his serious mood. It’s obvious that I’m talking to the head of the Crane Firm right now and not the man who took me under his wing when I first arrived in London four years ago.

I sit on the brown leather couch facing his desk and stretch my arms out wide, letting them hang on either side. I don’t want to disrespect my host and tutor, but I also don’t want him to think he has the authority to order me around either. If I’m to live up to my birthright, I must ensure that no boss from any other family believes they can issue out orders to me and expect my full compliance, Crane included.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem annoyed by my nonchalance, too preoccupied with whatever is causing the lines to his forehead to be more prominent. Without saying a word, Victor rises from behind his desk, walks over to the bar trolley, and pours two generous servings of gin into two glasses before handing one to me.

I grab the glass and take a mild sip while Victor slugs the clear liquid down in one gulp.

He’s upset.

---