Page 22 of Ruthless Lord
He’s scheming. That’s what my grandfather does. He taught me early on to always turn every situation into an advantage, no matter how difficult. There’s always an angle if you’re clever and careful.
Now I can see his wheels turning, and I know I won’t like where they end up.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“Your father is going to release those photos whether I kick you out of the family for this or not. When he does, I’ll have no choice but to cast you aside. Imagine what society would say if I didn’t?” He taps his fork against the table, head cocked to the side. “Unless the mistake weren’t as bad as it appears.”
My stomach twists in knots. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I’m absolutely sure I’m not going to like it.
This is my life. This is the hell I was born into. There’s always a game, and a game within a game, and more plans than a general’s war room. I used to think I could keep it all straight and come out on top, but now I’m thinking I’ve always been a naive moron.
“How are you going to do that?”
“Nobody would blame you for wanting to sample the goods, so to speak.” When I don’t react, he leans forward. “Nobody would be upset with you for sleeping with your fiancé.”
I flinch back from that word. It takes a few seconds to penetrate my skull. Fiancé? What’s he talking about?
I’m not engaged to Stefano?—
But no. God, no. Grandfather’s staring at me with cold, dead eyes. And I’m suddenly reminded that he’s been fascinated with the Marino Famiglia for a while now, and suddenly this opportunity to get closer to them just presented itself. A golden chance to force his way into their orbit.
“You can’t,” I say, taking a step backward.
“It’s the only way you salvage this. I have to approach Don Marino first, of course, and get his approval, but I suspect that won’t be difficult. You will marry Stefano Bianchi. You will become his wife. Then your father won’t be able to use your indiscretion against you. What is now an unseemly and unspeakable violation of our world’s norms will be transformed into the simple and natural actions of a young bride-to-be.”
I stumble over my own feet as I shake my head and walk backward. “No, no, I can’t do that, there’s no way he’d do it either, we can’t?—”
“You will,” Grandfather says as I turn and flee his apartment. I grab the door and yank it open. “Take a few days to get used to the idea. I can stall your father that long. But it’s happening, Charlie! You will do as I say!”
I slam the door behind me and run out of there.
Chapter 6
Stefano
Ifollow Albert through the crowded venue toward the VIP stairs. I’m sweaty and hurting all over from the fight. My knee twinges as I limp after him, grunting with each frustrating step. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be like this. Like the fight weren’t everything to me.
But I tried being a normal man. For the past few months, I’ve looked at spreadsheets, spoken with workers, sat in an office and pretended like the computer screen mattered.
It all felt wrong. I was drowning in that office chair. Even walking in the depot with the workers, laughing with the mechanics, hanging around the drivers, none of that remotely helped.
The itch was still there, deep in my fucked-up soul.
It never helped though. The battles in the ring. They make me feel alive for the brief time it takes to pummel another human into submission, but they never cleanse the rot in me. I don’t come out the other side purified in the fire of combat.
I stumble out hurting more, limping, grunting, hoping my wounds heal enough to get out of bed in the morning, but still needing more.
Life’s always that way. You get a taste of something good and suddenly it’s not enough.
Albert takes me to the fancy boxes. These quiet, carpet-lined halls are for the rich bastards. Men and women—though let’s be real, mostly men—fly from all over the world to watch these premier underground fights. Millions of dollars pass hands in wagers. High-end meals are served and alcohol flows like an alpine spring.
Not to mention all the other vices. Drugs, women, men, whatever. Sex and sometimes worse. I hear the cleaners have one hell of a job ahead of them each morning.
“He’s right through here.” Albert smiles at me and gestures at a door marked VIP. “I request only that you hear him out.”
“Yeah, sure.” I reach to open the door, but Albert doesn’t move out of the way.
“And about the other night. With Charlotte Westbrook.”
