Page 39 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

I took a threatening step forward and he leaned backwards. “I’m a man that will tear off every one of your limbs, one by fucking one. And I won’t rest until you are six feet underground.”

“W-what?” he stuttered, glancing around. Probably looking for his bodyguard, but he was long gone. We paid him off to get lost after obtaining information on why Chad was here. It turned out, Margaret’s invitation was just a convenient cover up. “This is none of your business.”

Chad’s primary reason for the visit was to come and hand select the kidnapped women with Marco, my half-brother. Except, the whole fucking warehouse vanished and the women with it.

“It is now.” He wasn’t scared enough. Yet. “Get within a mile of her ever again, I will ensure your career is destroyed. Then I’ll hunt you down and thrive on listening to your screams as I torture you for days.” Then to ensure he understood what I meant, I added, “I know you enjoy torturing women and rest assured, you’ll get it back tenfold. I can’t wait to show the world what a worthless little weasel you are.”

It wasn’t the right time to reveal all my cards. Not yet. But damn if I’d let him anywhere near my woman.

I watched him open his mouth, then close it and open again but nothing came out of his mouth. He looked like a gulping fish out of water.

“O-okay.” His voice trembled and finally he understood I meant business. He scurried away in the opposite direction of Margaret’s bachelorette party.

“Have one of our guys keep an eye on him until he leaves town,” I told my brother in Italian.

ChapterTwelve

CASSIO

It was almost midnight, and from my office on the upper floor, I watched the greed on people’s faces as they gambled their life savings away. The plan was unfolding, but now that we were close to the goal, I was getting too restless. Too eager.

I couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle and lock the final piece of the puzzle in its place. With the Irish on our side, the last bit of power Marco held onto would disintegrate. Yes, he had some kind of alliance with Petrov but the latter was never on my alliance list. It didn’t matter, they’d both meet their untimely death soon.

My father had been causing disarray among all the crime families - Italians, Bratva, Irish, cartel - for years. The uneasy, short lived truce with the Irish went up in smoke the second Callahan learned that Benito King kidnapped and tortured Áine, the daughter he didn’t know he had. All the years of bloodshed, just for my father’s sick tendencies and hunger for power.

And while I despised him for it, the point that it brought Áine into my world wasn’t missed on me. Either way, the man was dead. Good riddance. I detested any similarities to that man. Even one as innocent as my hair color. Deep down, I always reluctantly admitted that Luca and I looked more like our father than our mother. Just as Bianca knew it. Though I had to admit, my little sister handled her parentage better than I have.

Our brother, Marco, was no luckier. He looked like a skinny, freaky version of our father. He had always been better suited to be Benito’s right hand man, though he was younger than Luca and I. It wasn’t his skillset that made him better for it; it was his flavor of cruelty.

Both Benito and Marco had the same kind of thirst for blood and cruelty. Thankfully, neither Luca nor I inherited that. I was the oldest, then Luca came about, but we were illegitimate so he considered us a commodity, his personal killers for hire. Except, he never paid up.

While Benito never spared Luca nor I of his torturous, cruel lessons, he never bothered dishing them onto Marco. Fucking prick was pampered. Maybe Benito saw himself in the kid and thought that was good enough. When my mother was alive, she tried to shelter me from our father. Once she had Luca, something just died in her. Benito had broken her irrevocably. A few years later, she had left us in favor of ending her life. It left me to care for Luca and shelter him as she had done with me.

If Benito’s wife wouldn’t have gotten pregnant shortly after my own mother, he would have dumped his wife and married my mother. I wasn’t sure if it was a strike of good luck or bad luck. It certainly wasn’t good luck for my mother. It ended up costing her years of misery and ultimately her life, which made me hate Benito even more. Hate in a little boy’s body was a dangerous thing - it simmered until it erupted if not handled.

Benito strung her along, knowing that my mother’s ties to the powerful mafia family in Italy could prove useful one day. Fool! Nonno would have never supported him. He wasn’t family, never would have been. Even if he put a ring on Mamma’s finger.

My poor mother. Her beauty was her weakness. It got her noticed everywhere she went. It didn’t take long once she arrived in New York for Benito to spot her and sweet talk her into his bed. She was too young, too naive. She gave him years before giving up.

Now,wehad to end it. Once and for all. Bianca took care of Benito. It was our turn to take care of Marco. End these auctions for good. Clear the entire East Coast of trafficking. And then finally live our life. Enjoy our hard earned family and friendships.

The alliances we’d made would ensure that peace and rules remained in place.

I played my cards and waited. Now I’d make Callahan pay up his debt. Patience was a virtue, I was told, and I intended to have it pay out hefty dividends.

My office door swung open and my brother strode in towards my desk. The large see through glass behind me gave me the entire view of the casino and the dance floor. I owned both the hotel and casino where Margaret held her parties. She and her bachelorette party were moved here after their sudden cancellation of the evening performance. The group was wild and loud, switching between dancing and gambling. Chad had left the hotel and town. It didn’t take him long.Coward!

I watched Áine on the dance floor with Margaret. She moved gracefully, just like last night. Margaret was hammered. And despite the latter’s stumbling and helping her remain on her feet, Áine moved smoothly and with finesse. A picture of grace. Her little dress drew in everyone’s eyes. Her red hair was a stark contrast against the sparkly material. She danced with a soft, amused smile listening to Margaret’s rambling from the looks of it. The panicked woman from the elevator was completely gone. How many walls did she hide behind?

Margaret was intoxicated. And that was putting it mildly. She gambled away a hefty sum, and I knew Callahan would probably give me a call at any moment. Just like he had the previous night or night before. If he couldn’t control his niece, what made him think I could. But in his mind, she was my intended bride, so I had to feign interest and endure his rant. She needed a firm hand, except it wouldn’t be mine.

The only one in the group that wasn’t drunk and didn’t gamble was Áine. She kept herself together, avoiding men and their attention at all cost as she glided around the dance floor. I watched as yet another man tried to cut in between her and Margaret to dance with her, but she turned her back to him and pulled Margaret off the dance floor. She behaved like a true queen.

My queen.

“You sure you want to do this?” Luca asked. My brother never questioned me. Ever! Yet here we were - twice in two days.

“Yes.” I was positively, absolutely fucking sure. We would bring peace to New York and beat down Benito King’s legacy and our pathetic brother once and for all. Best part was Áine.

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