Page 24 of Prince of Malice

“Is that so?” I speak softly, trying my best to assess if his words are meant to be threatening.

“It is. And that’s a future that wouldn’t be beneficial for either party,” he continues. “So what we’re proposing is an alliance.”

“Right. And it’s just a coincidence that this is coming so soon after Mr. Valenti’s wedding to Ms. Rossi?”

He sighs. “I understand your skepticism, but I can assure you we only want what is best for both families,” the man replies. “If we were to end up at odds, we’d both lose money, businesses, and connections—and we’d lose some of our own.”

I listen to his words intently, waiting for a moment to strike back.

“However, if we were to join forces, we can increase all of those things. We’d havemore control of Montcove, a larger network of connections, and a greater unit.”

“So far, I’m hearing about a lot of things that we can do for you, but I’m yet to find anything that you bring to the table.” I remain critical. I can’t mess this up. I need to keep ahead of him and think logically about this.

“We would offer you an alternative,” he proposes.

“An alternative to what?”

The man takes a beat, collecting his thoughts for what to say next, and I scrutinize his composure. He seems to be going off-script; I think I have him on the defense now.

“Look,” he says, “I can tell you’re not easily swayed by mere words. That is a fair trait for you to have, and I can certainly see why you’re the one who was sent here.”

I narrow my eyes, not wanting to fall victim to his flattery.

“But unlike yourself, I wasn’t the first in line for this meeting. So I will speak to you frankly. What we want to offer the Valentis is an alternative to the Rossis.”

An alternative to the Rossis?

“Your alliance with them is new but fragile. They aren’t like us. The Rossis are unpredictable and only care about themselves.” His words speak to a part of me I don’t want to listen to right now. “Is that really the kind of people you want to align yourselves with?”

He’s making a fair point. I have some kind of feelings for Dominic that I can’t quite place, but this stranger’s words remind me of my own thoughts about him and his family.

“As we speak, one of their sons is out there taking part in some crazy street race. He’s going to get himself wrapped up in something idiotic and get killed or arrested by the police, and if the police get him, I’m sure he’ll be quick to talk to save his own skin,” he shares. “Doesn’t that just sound like what a Rossi would do?”

To me, that can only sound like the actions of one Rossi in particular.

“Which son?” I ask, completely forgetting every other part he’s said.

“Their middle son, Dominic Rossi. But I can guarantee that he is no different than the rest of his blood.”

“Where is this race?” I demand.

“Downtown, at the industrial estate. Why does this matter?”

I stand quickly from my seat, dragging myself out of the booth.

“I need to go,” I assert, already making my way to the door.

“Where are you going? We need to discuss?—”

Without another word, I walk out the door and leave him there in the booth.

I step out of the driver’s side of the car, standing out in the middle of the dim alleyway. I stare directly at Dominic, watching the anger take over his face and his fists clenching by his sides. Murder fills his eyes.

I still can’t believe I raced over here so quickly. I walked directly out of that meeting and sped to the scene without a second thought to make sure Dominic was ok. Somehow, I was lucky enough to run into him like this, but the way I’ve been drawn to him all week, I don’t even question it anymore. It feels like every time we see each other is fated to happen.

“Why are you here?” Dominic shouts. “Why are you always here?”

“I don’t know.”

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