Page 93 of Bittersweet Endings
“JP is all but dead,” I cut in, watching shock ripple across the room. Some of them masked it well. Others weren’t so good at hiding their surprise. “Your old boss will be rotting in the ground where he belongs just as soon as I get my pound of flesh. Very. Very. Soon. And I’m the one you answer to now.”
Silence.
“You expect us to fall in line just like that?” someone else balked.
I turned to him, my smirk razor sharp. “No,” I said casually. “I expect you to be smart enough to recognize that you don’t have a fucking choice.” I took another slow step forward, letting the weight of my presence sink in. “Unless you’d rather take your chances with the grave I’ll dig next to JP’s.”
A few men shifted in their seats.
“I didn’t come here to negotiate. I came here to claim what’s mine. And if you have a problem with that, speak now.” I lowered myself into my chair.
Silence again. I let it stretch on this time, let them stew in their own unease. I let the realization sink in that they weren’t just dealing with another player in the game.
Iwasthe game. And I always fucking won.
But their silence wasn’t submission; it was calculation. These men weren’t fools. I knew better than to think they’d all fall in line just because I declared myself king. Some would need convincing. Others would need to be made an example of.
And I fucking lived for the chance to do it.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze sweeping over them as I let the tension settle. “Any other new business?”
A few shook their heads. Exchanged glances, but no one spoke up.
Tapping my phone, I sent Matteo a quick message. Then I stood, straightening my suit, and walked towards the door. Slow and deliberate.
“Let’s talk about the future, then,” I continued, my voice casual, as if I hadn’t just scolded them like little lapdogs. “Under my leadership, businesses will thrive. You’ll all be richer than you’ve ever been. Because that’s what matters, right? The future.”
The door opened. And in she walked. My Octavia.
We both heard it. The chatter, the snarls, the snarky remarks. But she didn’t waver. Octavia held her head high, her dark eyessweeping the room with the same ruthless confidence I possessed.
Like my queen.
One of the old fucks sneered. “Agostino trash isn’t welcome here.”
The room rumbled its agreement.
I smiled. “Repeat that.”
The old man hesitated, but the younger one beside him—too stupid to understand what was happening—spoke up. “You heard him. That filth doesn’t belong…”
I was already moving. The room barely had time to react before my blade was in the fucker’s throat. Slicing through skin, muscle, and artery in one clean motion. He made a gurgling noise, his eyes bulging as his blood gushed down my wrist, staining my sleeve. His hands clawed at my arm, desperate, but I held him steady as I watched the life drain from his eyes.
The room froze.
I dropped him to the floor, my knife still lodged in his throat. Then, just as casually, I reached down, wrenched the gold ring from his blood-soaked hand, and straightened. I held the piece of metal up to the light and examined it.
“My men are allowed opinions,” I hummed. “But they should be careful which ones they voice out loud.”
The room exhaled, everyone shifting in their seats while a new kind of quiet settled over them. A quiet filled with fear. I turned back to Octavia, holding her gaze, and finally—finally—they knew what I’d always known.
She was mine. And I’d kill every last one of them before I let them disrespect her again.
I stepped forward, my boots echoing against the marble floor, my hands still slick with blood. Octavia lifted her chin, her lips twitching into a small smile. And fuck if it didn’t make me wantto ruin her all over again. She wasn’t afraid. Not of me, not of the power I held, not of the blood staining my hands.
She was born for this.
Turning back towards the room, I let my gaze sweep over the men who now sat stiff and silent. They were waiting, wondering how far I’d take this. Soon they’d learn I’d take it all the way.
