Page 3 of Rise To Power

“I had to be sure. Luca brought home a woman. She went by the name Tinker in the BDSM scene.”

“Do you think she knows anything?”

“Once I find her, I’ll have her in my dungeon so I can find out.”

Ant followed me into the house.

“He’s waiting,” Giada stated when I walked through the door.

My gaze raked up her long legs, over the flair of her hips, and focused on the exposed flesh of her perfect tits. She was a beautiful Italian woman, but Giada was a cunt. Specifically, Bruno cunt.

But she was also lethal with the tongue of a viper. Luca made the mistake of believing she’d make a mafia wife with her olive skin, dark hair, and penetrating eyes.

The relationship never had a chance. The Ruthless King didn’t care that she belonged to Luca first. Sadly, neither had I. If I could unfuck her, I would. She’d earned her place in the family and had been warming my father’s bed since she became a made woman.

“Marco.” She rested her fingers on my forearm.

I glared into her eyes. I’d warned her not to touch me, but rather than remove her hand, she slid her fingers higher. “You know what he wants.”

I did. My father wanted to secure my place as the future head of the family. He wanted Luca’s killer, and he wanted to expand the power of the Bruno family.

But his patience with me had grown thin. Bruno’s married for position and alliances. I’d avoided this conversation for nearly two years.

“I hate that he puts so much pressure on you.” Her voice dripped with empathy. The tone, the body, the touch, she was a weapon of mass destruction in much the same way I used violence, intimidation, and power.

“I’m touched.” With a chuckle, I continued walking. Hate simmered in her, but it wasn’t my marital status concerning her. Giada hated competition. “Excuse me.” I paused at the door to my father’s office. “Not all family business concerns you.”

Her lips pursed.

I knocked. With my father’s clipped permission, I opened the door, closing Giada off from the meeting.

“Hard at work, I see.”

My father stared out the window, a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Andre, his consigliere, sat in the corner, reading a magazine.

I crossed the room and stood next to my father. Words weren’t really needed. “When do I leave?”

He cast his gaze at Andre. His consigliere set a magazine aside, unfolded from the chair, and quietly left the room.

Once alone, my father sipped his drink. “Tomorrow.”

I growled and rolled my shoulders.

“You know I’m right,” he said. And I did. We had an unknown enemy, and they’d struck first, struck fast, and struck deadly. He turned to me. “Two years, Marco.”

“I’ve been busy.” I rubbed blood from my palm.

“Too busy to honor your commitments?”

“Luca is my priority.”

Roberto Bruno heaved a breath. “Then go. Honor him by taking over his Crew. Go to America. Make those who took my son pay.” His teeth gnashed as he ground out the words.

“I will.”

He cast a side glance at me. “And marry Allegra before the don changes his mind.”

“Salvatore Jilani would suck my dick to secure the marriage of his daughter.” I wanted to avoid being shackled to the timid waif of a girl for as long as possible.

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