Page 34 of Power
And I’m not the only one after him. Enzo’s men are sniffing around, which means I need to move fast. If they find Vigo first, they’ll put a bullet in his skull before I can get what I came for.
I need him alive. I need what’s in his head. And if he thinks he can weasel his way out of this?
He’ll learn real fucking quick—everyone talks eventually.
I was seventeen when I left Chicago to come here. Seventeen and already a goddamn mess of broken parts. The kind of mess that could never really be fixed. Back then, the world felt like it was closing in on me, like I was suffocating under the weight of everything I couldn’t control.
My father—never cared, never showed up. And the bastard I moved in with for a while, my best friend’s father, the one who was supposed to be a father figure, well... he showed up all right, in ways I didn’t ask for.
When I finally had enough and told my friend what his father was doing to me, I thought he’d stand by me. Instead, he turned on me. He and his father had connections, and they used every bit of their influence to sabotage my future. They made sure my chance at Juilliard was gone.
They didn’t just destroy my shot; they made sure no one in the city would touch me again. They spread lies, twisted the truth, and made my life a living hell. I couldn’t even walk the streets without hearing whispers behind my back.
I told myself I could handle it that I could move past the betrayal. But when my so-called best friend humiliated me in front of the whole damn school on graduation, I realized I was done. I was a joke. They made me that way—exposed me in front of everyone who could’ve given me a chance.
And that humiliation? Worse than any slap or punch. Worse than anything physical. Losing my shot at Juilliard felt like nothing compared to losing the one thing I still had left: trust. Trust in people. Trust in myself.
I didn’t belong there anymore. I didn’t belong anywhere. So, I left. I left New York, left the shattered pieces of what used to be my life, and I came to Italy. It was the only place I could think torun, the only place that might take me in. Even if I had to crawl there.
I met the wrong people here—people like me. People who had nothing to lose. And that was how I ended up in this world. It wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t some grand plan. I was just trying to survive. So, I learned how to play the game. The Mafia’s game. I made connections. I got dirty. And when you get dirty enough, there’s no way out. There’s only one direction: forward.
Now, I’m a king, but it’s a cold throne. There’s no warmth in it. Only power. And power doesn’t care about who you were or what you’ve been through. It doesn’t give a shit about your scars.
I think about that sometimes. About the kid I used to be, the one who thought he could escape. The kid who dreamed of something better, something more. But that kid died a long time ago. The world swallowed him whole, and I didn’t even try to fight it.
A lot of people think I came back for revenge. They’re right, but not in the way they think.
The revenge? It was just the spark. The reason to keep going. But that’s not the heart of it. What I really want is to destroy Enzo’s legacy. To rip it apart, piece by piece, and watch it burn.
Every deal I make, every step I take, it's all tied to this one thing. And the more I go down this path, the more I wonder if I even want to stop.
I don’t know if it’s the vengeance driving me anymore, or just the need to prove something to myself. To prove that I can survive in this world—no matter what it takes.
And the deeper I get involved with Vittoria, the more I feel it. I know what it’ll do to Enzo if I take her from him. The control, the torment, it’ll eat him alive. And maybe that’s what I want—maybe that’s part of the plan. But then, every time I think about her, I realize something else: I’m not just using her to hurt him.
I’m getting lost in her. Lost in the pull she has on me, and I can’t even tell what I’m supposed to do anymore.
She is all I think about while with my friends and even till now. In the new club they swore by.
Sex clubs and orgies are exactly my thing, but according to them Club Rex never disappoints. The sexual gratification it offers has always piqued my interest, and tonight is no different. As I meander through familiar alcoves leading to private rooms, I start to feel good.
It’s not like I haven’t been here before; I’ve conducted business in this place and, as a bonus, enjoyed a good fuck in the process. The blue and red lighting gives the club an almost ethereal look. The bar area is half full tonight, with some ladies dancing completely naked on poles. Tonight, though, I’m here for someone else, so it doesn’t faze me.
I head to the bar for a glass of whiskey on the rocks and down it immediately. As the burning alcohol clears my system, a face flashes in my mind—one I recognize all too well. There’s a chance that if I let this continue, she’ll be my undoing. Just the thought of her startles me awake. I order another glass but take this one slow.
A woman in a skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination and a top that accentuates her perfectly rounded breasts approaches me, offering a flirty smile. “Master Jerome asked me to take you to the VIP wing. Care to follow me?”
Although I know the way to the VIP wing, I let her lead. She guides me down a short staircase, away from the music and noise, before offering a brief description of the club.
“If I need a tour guide, I’ll get one,” I reply, my tone sharper than intended.
She laughs but doesn’t answer me, and we continue, the moment filled with something unnamable. We pass a showroom where a small crowd of men watches a threesome through aglass partition. A man lies back on the bed while one of the women, a blonde, sits on his face. As her expression contorts in sheer pleasure, I feel my cock harden in my pants. The other blonde, with shorter hair and bangs, expertly rides him. The hums of satisfaction from the crowd fill the room, and while I’m tempted to linger, I resist and follow my guide to my sex room in the VIP wing.
When we reach the room, she shows me the drinks at the private bar before excusing herself. I take a long look around. Everything is as it should be, but as I settle into the leather seat, my mind drifts back to Vittoria.
I shouldn’t be thinking of her or becoming obsessed with a feisty, mouthy woman, but she’s slowly making me crumble. I don’t want that. It’s exactly why I’m here tonight. I intend to get laid and rid myself of her once and for all. In my line of work, getting obsessed over someone like her could become a loose end—one I’m currently unprepared to deal with.
“I heard you specifically asked for me, Mr. Bellini.”
