Page 4 of Wicked Angel

"Unfortunately, America’s already married," I replied. "But you're right, she is an interesting woman."

"Indeed."

When he didn’t elaborate, I pressed forward. “Are you going to tell me exactly why you’ve called me here for this meeting? Seeing as how it’s not for a contract.” I withdrew the notice I’d received two days prior. He paused and smiled as I handed it to him. “Because last I checked, saying ‘an offer you can’t refuse’ tends to get a man killed.”

He laughed, the sound loud and barking. It was odd and rough to hear, especially coming from a man who so seldomly found such amusement. “Only if you’re stupid,” he said with a shake of his head, “and you, Gaven, are the furthest thing from it.” His age-spotted hand waved in my general direction before he started walking again. Raffaello Price was an odd combination of genuine man and conniving fucker. He was one of the few mafia men I’d ever seen actually form a family unit and truly love his wife and children. It was something for those lower in ranks to achieve, but not a Kingpin. To be King was to be lonely. And as the loneliest bastard around, I couldn’t help but admit—even if just to myself—that I’d fucking love to be King. “Besides, tradition and the classics have a certain … elegance to them, wouldn’t you agree?” Raffaello continued.

“Like having an entire hall of gaudy paintings of Price Heirs?” I countered with a smirk, glancing around at the art spanning back generation after generation. Raff’s laugh was once again choppy, but he didn’t disagree when we reached the door to our destination.

“Ah, yes, our ancestry,” Raff said as he looked up at the walls and slowed his pace. “Sometimes, I look at these walls and think to myself, who else but the Prezzos would immigrate to America and change their name only to form an empire of blood and money.”

I considered his expression for a moment before looking at the paintings myself. A tall, bulbous man with a thick mustache that was popular back in the 1920s stared back at me from one. “And?” I asked my old friend. “What do you derive from that?” I returned my attention to the man standing next to me.

“I think they wanted to remind our family and those who came after them that Prezzo or not … the Price is what we should always be looking for. After all, we did sell our souls to the devil for a damn good one, didn’t we?” Raff winked as he said that last part, but before I could respond, he turned and kept walking.

“The Price Syndicate is actually something I'd like to discuss with you.” The office we entered was as ornate and gaudy as the rest of the mansion. It smelled of paper, wood polish, and the slightest scent of tobacco. Raff strode around the massive desk before sitting in his office chair. When I made no move further into the space, he gestured to the leather chairs facing him. “Please have a seat.” My fingers brushed over the front of my suit jacket, undoing the single button as I moved to oblige him.

“I’m going to cut right to the chase, Gaven,” Raff started bluntly once we were alone and out of the guards’ sight. “I’m getting older, and Dahlia is gone.” He paused for a moment, a dark look crossing his face. One I remembered well as I'd seen that very same look when he'd called me seven years ago and ordered me to find and bring him his wife's murderer. It took only a moment for it to clear, and once it did, he was back to the smiling, albeit sharp-eyed, Raff that I knew well enough.

Had he ever gone legit in his business, he might have made a fine politician. Very few knewjusthow dark parts of him that lurked beneath the surface were, having chosen to keep it hidden beneath layer after layer of mask and façade. The only reason I’d ever been privy to such details of the man’s life had been because of my assistance in finding his wife’s killer and the enemy that had taken her from him. If I were honest with myself, though, it wasn’t just the request from my old friend, but also from that of the young girl I’d met at the funeral. Her big eyes had looked up at me, and through her own innocence, she’d asked me to do something no child should ever even think of … and she’d done so without any hint of regret.

“I have no sons to pass the Price business to when I inevitably pass,” he continued. “You and I have worked together on many occasions over the years. I respect the code you follow when carrying out your contracts and how you conduct yourself. You should know that I’ve always cared for you as if you were my own.”

I nodded. “Yes, if I recall, you were one of my very first clients as a hitman.”

He grinned. “And you performed it beautifully,” Raff replied. “I’m quite proud of the man you’ve become.”

“Even though you stole me away from your competitors?” I chuckled as I asked the question. The truth was that even allies in our world were competitors. I might have gotten my start cleaning up kills and progressed into the direct act of killing, but Raffaello Price had given me the first shot it took to showcase my darker talents. Even afterward, it wasn’t until the death of his wife that I’d truly begun to shine as a man who could make the impossible … possible. I’d found the enemy responsible for his late wife’s murder and I’d sent his heart back to the family before slaughtering the lot of them—from the head to the heirs.

“It has been a lucrative relationship for the both of us,” Raffaello said, pulling me back to the present.

“It has,” I agreed. “I’ve always respected you and the way you do business.” The circles and banter, while piquing my curiosity, were also wearing on me. None of it explained what I was doing here now. “Did you call me here to placate my ego, old man, or is there a point to this meeting?”

“Did you know that I was not always a Price?” he asked by way of answer. I frowned, confused by the strangeness of the question. I shook my head and he continued, “Dahlia wasn’t an heir to another family, and though we’d hoped for one for the Price Syndicate, it didn’t happen. I contemplated remarrying after she was gone, but…” He trailed off as if recalling some long-ago memory. He doesn’t need to say it. The love he had felt for his wife had been obvious to everyone in the underworld. It was why she’d made the perfect target, the perfect weakness. Even though I felt for him, he’d been stupid to get so attached. A sigh accompanied the rhythmic tensing of his jaw, the brief wistfulness in his gaze hardening at whatever he was seeing in his mind.

“Raff.” I leaned back against the chair as my frown deepened. “All this talk of marriage and heirs. Please explain what this has to do with—” It hit me, causing me to cut off my own words even as I spoke them. “You want me to marry into your family and take over the place of heir.” It’s not a question but a statement, and a damned shocking one at that.

A smile stretched his wide face. “Like, I said, you're far from stupid, Gaven,” Raff replied with a nod. “Yes.” He straightened in his wingback chair and folded his hands over the surface of his oak desk. “I intend to offer you just that.”

“What about your current lieutenants? I’m sure they’d be pretty pissed to find out the organization is being handed over to a stranger,” I countered, relaxing back into the cushions of the chair. “I don’t exactly want—or need—any more enemies gunning for me.”

“They’re devoted to the Price Syndicate,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Their families have been a part of our organization for generations, so they’re well versed in how the head of the family is passed down when no heir has been born.”

“Mhmm,” I murmured skeptically, “and what makes you thinkIwant to be the next head of the Price Family?”

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that men in your line of work, or rather,ourline of work tend to find themselves in an early grave, Gaven. You’ve surpassed the typical lifespan of a contract killer—no doubt because of your skillset. The question is: do you want to continue to live your solitary lifestyle? Worried that at any given point you could be next on the chopping block?” There was a pregnant pause before he finished the open-ended questioning. “Or do you want power?”

That was an easy question to answer. I wanted fuckingpower. In this business, however, revealing your cards too soon was dangerous. So, I schooled my face as I dragged a hand down my jaw. Wearing a mask was a means of survival, even among friends. I stared back at my old friend and considered his question a bit more carefully before answering. The fact was, I enjoyed my work, but I couldn’t deny that he was right. The life of a hitman was short-lived in comparison to the average person, and I wanted a change.

Taking on a Syndicate was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I was rich from all of my contracts, but the Price Family … they were the kind of wealth that shot first and didn’t question whether they’d be able to buy their way out. It wasn’t a safer life, but I would be insane not to realize the benefits of accepting it.

“What if I decline your offer?” Raff’s eyes narrowed on me. He knew what I was truly asking. He wouldn’t have asked me here, brought me in, and practically slapped adoption papers in front of me despite my age if it weren’t for the sheer fact that he knows I’m not going to say no. However, if I did… well, he wouldn’t want it to get out that he was looking for an heir to marry one of his daughters. There was no gain without loss, and I was anxious to know the specific details of this position. As he said, there was always a price.

“I don’t think we need to go into those specifics, Gaven, you’re smart enough to know what the potential downsides are.” Raff’s rough chuckle filled the room as he gestured to my expression. “And regardless of your expression, I know you. You’re as ambitious as they come.”

“So astute,” I muttered with a shake of my head, earning another laugh from Raff.

“There’s only one thing you would need to do.” He reached into the top drawer of his desk. When he pulled two pictures and laid them out for me to see, I stood and leaned over to scan them. “My daughters—Jacquelina and Evangeline,” he said, pointing to the corresponding portrait with each name. “You would only need to choose one.”

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