Page 1 of No Mistakes
PROLOGUE
“Antonio, get your ass in here.”My father barks from behind the closed door, his voice muffled by the wood.
I stand up from the leather chair outside his office, skimming my palms over my suit jacket to smooth out the fabric, trying to look presentable. It doesn’t matter how sharp I look, he’ll still find something to grunt about. He always does.
Gripping the handle, I steal one last breath before entering the lion’s den.
He was never one to cut corners when it came to making an impression, but the second I enter, I’m in awe. It’s rare that I get to see the inside of this room, and I can’t help but scan my surroundings, admiring every inch of the dark wood panelled walls while different art pieces hang across them. The chandelier hangs from the ceiling like a warning, luxurious and sharp. The kind of thing that looks beautiful until it falls and splits your skull open.
The blood-red rug swallows the floor beneath my feet, thick and soundless, muffling every step. I can’t help but wonder how many bodies have fallen onto this floor; maybe that’s why the colour scheme has never changed from anything but red.
I walk closer towards the two leather chairs sitting in front of his massive desk, where he sits behind it like the devil himself, leaning on his throne with a glass of bourbon.
The room is spotless, not a single thing out of place.
He doesn’t look at me as I stand behind the chair, waiting for permission to sit. Instead, he takes a sip of his drink and taps his finger on the glass, and from that movement alone, I know I’m already in trouble, and I haven’t even said afuckingword yet.
“Four months,” he says, his voice low. “You’ve been eighteen for four… fucking… months, Antonio.”
I keep my face blank. Axel has taught me everything when it comes to our father, and rule number one is to never react.
“You were born into this family. Raised to take over with your brothers one day. And yet here you are… dragging your feet like some outsider waiting for an invitation.”
I feel my jaw tick, the need to talk back getting stronger every second, but I stay silent.
“You think this life is optional?” He asks, standing up slowly. “You think you get todecidewhen you’re ready?”
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“No. You don’tgetto speak. You listen.”
He steps around the desk, closing the space between us until the scent of cigars and expensive cologne wraps around me like a noose.
“Either you’re in this family, or you’re not. There’s no halfway. No excuses. So tell me, son…” His head tilts, like he’s studying me, trying to find a weakness. “Do you even want this life?”
His words hang heavy between us, and I can’t help but think if this is his way of challenging me.
I stand tall, locking onto his stare. “I didn’t ask for this life,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “But you’re correct. I was born into it. Just likeyou, sir.”
His brow lifts, but I keep going before I have the urge to throw up from the fear creeping up inside of me.
“You want to question whether I want this? Fine. But don’t mistake silence for hesitation. I’ve been watching. Listening. Learning.” I use the opportunity and take a step closer towards him. “I’ve kept my mouth shut out of respect. But don’t think for a second I’m notready.”
He doesn’t respond; he just studies me as if he’s waiting for me to continue.
“I’m not just here to play soldier,” I finish. “I’m here to lead, just like my brothers, and when the time comes, I’ll prove it.”
His mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. It’s the kind of look that makes grown men piss themselves in normal families.
“We’ll see,” he mutters before clasping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Because ready or not, you’re about to earn your place.”
My eyes widen at the fact that he didn’t just slam me to the floor after my little speech.
“When?” I ask, too quickly.
He smirks, but there’s no humour to it. Just pearly white teeth.
“Tonight.”
