Page 18 of Where the Wicked Reign

Making my mark in the business world.

Building my own empire.

It didn’t matter that I was friendless, because I was chock-a-block busy and I had been for the last few years. I didn’t have time for fun or leisure, or relationships.

That was how I liked it.

Simple. No complications.

The one exception being Nico Marchetti’s weirdwarwith me.

It had been going on for three long years.

Sure, at first I’d welcomed the challenge. And, honestly, it had given me a sick thrill, striking against him and engaging in a battle of wits and all that.

But I couldn’t entertain it any longer.

It had been a week since he’d pulled that flower mess atLusterand I hadn’t struck back. Nor would I.

I needed to focus on business.

I was embarking on the next stage of my plans.

Lusterhad been a huge success. My gross profit margin was consistently above eighty percent and it had even hit ninety during my evaluation of the books a couple of days ago. I also had my two all-female lounges,MystiqueandMirage,that had become fixtures in the city and valued spaces and resources for young female entrepreneurs to come together and network, chill, and also learn from the seminars that we held.

I now had the capital, the experience, and the reputation to expand beyond that.

I had my eye on Brimbank Waterfront in the south end of the city, a place that had been neglected for years and fallen into pretty much a hellhole state. It was also a hub for smalltime criminals, all of that combined making it a place that the general public avoided like the plague.

But the intel I’d covertly acquired cited plans by city officials to develop the entire area, revitalizing it, drawing businesses and jobs there, making it a tourist attraction too. It was going to be a huge overhaul and undertaking. A development of this magnitude was something I needed to be a part of. And I would be. My company, Camlann Corporation, would be front and center.

I was already in the process of putting together the design concepts for a proposal, so I’d be right at the forefront once it was officially announced. With my plan to diversify beyond the entertainment sector through using this massive development opportunity to build a condominium complex, a four-star hotel, and to restore the current dilapidated pier and turn it into an amusement and leisure venue that would prove accessible and affordable to everyone, I would be stepping on the toes of those already established in those areas.

One such person was my father, a real estate king here in the City of Tolhurst with Leone Realty. As if he didn’t already have a big enough piece of the pie as it was. And beyond his real estate operations, there were also the illegitimate aspects that involved a whole lot of extortion, blackmail, and collusion that enabled him to control a third of the city. His backroom gambling dens spread all fucking over, racketeering, stolen goods trafficking, his sleazy strip clubs, countless embezzlement schemes, using politicians, stockbrokers, and city officials the Leone Family had in its pocket to do a whole lot more than that too.

But I was done playing it safe and worrying so much about staying off his radar and not crossing him, or infringing upon his business intentions in any way. I was more confident now and established, too. I was even being given an award for my success in business. This was the direction I wanted—and needed—to take the company in, to expand and remain relevant,andto make Camlann Corporation one of the major players in the city, rather than remaining on the sidelines of the greats.

My speakerphone buzzed on my desktop, pulling me from working on the design concepts. I tapped it to answer, and my assistant’s voice sounded out into my office a moment later.

“I have an unscheduled visitor insisting on seeing you, Caterina.”

I frowned. Normally, she was sublime with keeping my schedule and ensuring there were nounscheduledinterruptions.

Before I could ask why she thought this would be considered an exception to our usual protocol, I heard muffled discourse in the background, a moment before her voice sounded back down the line, telling me, “It’s your mother.”

My mom? Here? AtLuster?While I was neck-deep in work?

We had our scheduled bi-weekly luncheon for catching up and staying connected. Her coming here, especially without so much as a warning, really didn’t bode well.

“Send her in, Hazel.”

I braced myself. A moment later, my door opened and Bianca Leone walked on in.

Her long auburn hair, just like mine, was pulled up into a messy bun, some strands falling loose and brushing the shoulders of her demure Chanel blazer that gave way to a modest beige pencil skirt.

She took in my office, taking her time studying every little detail.

My sleek silver U-shaped desk, Camlann Corp branding and the photos of my properties on the dark-gray walls, the white leather sectional with the frosted glass coffee table over on the far end of the room.

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