Page 23 of Blood Money

“You think I’m stupid?” He spoke in a soft but deadly tone.

“No,” I whimpered. Sweat broke out on my face, and nausea welled in my stomach.

“Don’t you ever lie to me. You and Gabriel are the future of this family. I will not have it further sullied like your father did. Do you understand?” Each word dripped evil, and though I hated to show it, I trembled.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Ensure you do, because Vittorio? If I find out you got some little bitch pregnant, I will kill that fucking bastard child like I should’ve killed Mario. Then I will fuck her myself to see what was so special about her before I slit her throat in front of you. Capisci, Vittorio?”

I had to blink several times to get my grandfather’s image out of the mirror. It didn’t matter that he’d retired back to Sicily. He lived in my head still. And truthfully, I wouldn’t put it past him to come back and follow through with his threats.

Without a word, I started to dress. Thankfully, she was quiet the entire time. Until she wasn’t.

“Hey,” her husky voice called out as I exited the bathroom.

I glanced up and raised my brows.

She rolled her eyes. “God, why do you have to be such a dick? You fuck like a machine, and that’s really goddamn amazing, but shit, a little emotion every now and then would be nice.”

“We had an agreement,” I reminded her. “Have you forgotten?”

“No, but—”

“There are no ‘buts.’ That signed agreement? It’s very specific. If you can’t abide by it any longer, then I will make the arrangements.” I turned to leave.

“Baby—” she began.

With a slicing motion of my hand, I cut her off as I winced.

Well, that’s that.

“Expect the paperwork in the morning.”

And I left.

“Adrenaline”—Zero9:36

Eighteen Years Old….

“Where have you been?”

I froze, my spine stiffening. Then I slowly spun to face my grandfather and lied through my teeth. “Hanging out with Bobby and Luciano. Why?”

His gaze narrowed as he searched my face for a sign that I wasn’t telling the truth. With Father and Gabriel gone on some task or another, my grandfather, the current don of La Cosa Nostra, stared at me—because I was next in line and therefore the object of his focus. He was a fucking heartless bastard, and I hated him.

“You’re home late,” he observed.

“So? It’s summer, and after making your deliveries all day, I stopped to see my friends. I wasn’t aware that was a problem.” One of my brows arched as I waited for him to reply. I didn’t tell him I’d also made several of my own deliveries. I was sure he knew—the old goat knew everything. But there was one thing I didn’t want him to touch. If he did, he might dim my little flame.

“It’s time I increased your responsibility. If you ever hope to be in a position of power in this family, you have a lot to learn. Don’t expect things to be handed to you simply because your last name is De Luca.”

Fucking hell.Inwardly, I groaned. Little did he know or care, I didn’t want power. Not the kind of power he wielded, anyway. And I didn’t want a goddamn thing he would hand me, no matter what.

“Whatever you see fit,” I told him with a careless shrug. No way was I letting him see that I hated him and everything he stood for. If I did, he would try to beat those thoughts out of me.

He approached, and I fought the desire to flinch from him when he gripped my shoulder. “Make sure you’re prepared to focus on what I teach you. Compassion is a weakness your enemies will exploit. Better to be feared than dead.”

It took everything I had not to snort in his face. I wanted to shoot the phrase about catching more flies with honey at him, but it was pointless.

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