Page 14 of Madness & Mercy
He backed me into a corner.
And when you corner a viper, you don’t get a warning.
You get fangs.
So, I’ll let him in.
I’ll pour him a drink.
Hell, I’ll even offer him a room with a view.
But I’ll keep the knife to his throat the entire time.
Innocent or not, this man’s fate is sealed.
He just doesn’t know how it ends yet.
What’s that saying?
Keep your friends close.
Keep your enemies close enough to feel their last breath on your skin.
And Julian Cross?
He’s about to learn just how close that really is.
By the time we pull through the iron gates, the security team’s already clocked the vehicle. Not that they needed to. Every inch of this estate is under surveillance. From the moment you step on the gravel, we know what brand of cigarettes you smoke and whether you’re left- or right-handed when you pull a gun.
Julian doesn’t say a word as we wind past the olive trees and up the long drive, but I can feel him looking at the sharp stonework, the looming glass, the statues lining the garden path. He masks it well, but I catch the flicker in his eyes.
He didn’t expect this.
This isn’t some gaudy crime lord’s playground. This is old money. Old power. Cold, quiet control.
I lead him through the double doors, into a foyer framed in black marble and brass.
Allegra’s waiting in the sitting room, perched like royalty on the cream settee, her posture perfect and her expression unreadable. Luca stands behind her, arms crossed, jaw set. He’s already been briefed.
“Mother. Luca,” I say. “This is Julian Cross. He’s not our guy.”
I don’t elaborate. They don’t need me to.
Allegra doesn’t stand when Julian approaches, but that doesn’t stop him. He moves with the same calm arrogance I’ve seen in con men and politicians, the kind of charisma that makes you forget you’re the one holding the knife.
He reaches for Luca’s hand first, offering a firm shake. “Pleasure.”
Luca doesn’t blink. “We’ll see.”
Then, without missing a beat, Julian turns to my mother. He doesn’t bow, doesn’t grovel. He simply takes her hand and brushes his lips over her knuckles like he’s been doing it all his life.
“Mrs. Vitale,” he murmurs. “An honor.”
Her brow arches slightly, surprised. Then, for the first time in years, I see something close to amusement flicker across her face.
“You’re either very charming,” she says coolly, “or very foolish.”
“Can’t it be both?” he replies, with a half-smile that probably got him out of more arrests than I care to imagine.
