“Fallon. I didn’t have your father killed or your mother.”
“Maybe not, but you are the reason they are dead. You. No one else.” Reaching down, I grabbed the file that had been prepared.
“Here’s how we are going to play this, Bruni. You will not enter into an alliance with my uncle or any other Bratva in Russia. You will never try and contact Fallon again. You will not dare attack my family or there will be consequences. The Costa Cosa Nostra has convinced their extended family in Sicily to partner alongside my family and our corporation with the Hoffman Group. That means we will have significant power and presence in several countries throughout the world.”
Vissarian allowed the news to sink in.
“That means we will have significant control. Now, so you don’t go away empty-handed, we’ve provided proof that Antonio Esposito has been working with Yuri Dmitriyev to undermine your operation and when it came time, to help orchestrate your untimely death. I’m certain you’ll know what to do with the information. That’s entirely up to you. You are being given one chance of dealing with Antonio. If you don’t, I will. No one dares lay a hand on the woman I love.”
I handed my grandfather the file, watching his eyes as he gazed at the vivid photographs, obviously recognizing some of the victims.
“Antonio killed my mother and your Capo in this very house. The one I’ve decided to have torn down. One last time, Mr. Bruni. I never want to see you again.”
He lifted his head, studying me and for a few seconds, I was certain I could see sadness in his eyes. Then it faded away, replaced with something else entirely.
Guilt.
He’d lost his wife, his daughter, his son and grandchild because of his greed. Now he was going to lose another.
Perhaps I was being too harsh, but at this moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to suffer as he’d done to my father, my mother, my sister, and to the man I loved.
No more.
I was taking back my life.
And giving it to the person that would forever be in my life.
The man of my dreams.
Ten weeks later…
A co-pilot.
For big commercial flights, sure, but for a private jet? I should be incensed. Granted, we were returning to Saba Island, not only for the Dmitriyev and Costa boys to conduct business with the Hoffman Group, but also for some much-needed relaxation.
I was all for it.
Except there was a strange man sitting next to me in the co-pilot’s seat, the same seat reserved for Bella. At. All. Times.
“I’ll be right back. James. Right?”
The guy with the salt and pepper hair tipped his head, flashing me his pearly whites. I also hadn’t been the one to select my… co-pilot. My darling hunk of a man had done that. He’d cited I’d needed time to relax and get into the groove of being his… What had he taken to calling me?
Oh, yes. ‘My sexy but disobedient captain, my captain.’ The gorgeous man truly believed he was funny.
Wrong.
“At your service, ma’am,” James stated.
“Not ma’am. You’re older than me. Just call me Captain Zimmerman.”
He saluted as his answer. Another funny guy. Great. As I slipped from the seat, heading into the back, I stood just outside the doorway, marveling at my new family. I’d easily become a part of the clan, realizing within a few days that they were just like every other family with their squabbles and family gatherings, including two wives who I already adored.
Bristol and Marissa were as feisty as I was. That was needed to keep the Dmitriyev boys on their toes.
It was the difference between the Dmitriyev and Costa families and everyone else in the world.
They were richer than sin, but I had to admit, Vissarian had been right. They were all pretty down to earth.