Page 24 of The Don's Hidden Heir

I scoff when Dante goes to the whore on the pole and wraps his hands around her waist. She smiles at him and he leans in to whisper something into her ear. Soon they disappear into the sea of people dancing in the middle of the room.

I’m forty, only a year older than Dante, but he reminds me so much of me and Marcus when we were much younger. Clubbing and fucking whoever we wanted.

When I became the Capo, my interests drifted from sliding my cock into any cunt to jerking off in their mouths and sending them away with a stack of cash. My father’s death was too sudden and chaotic, and I had to step up to keep the family and business in order before I was ready to.

I’d been just fine living like that until I met Elena, now I can’t even jerk off without pretending it’s her on her knees, sucking me dry.

Speaking of Elena…I grab my phone from the table and check my messages. After the party, I’d gotten her number from one of her staff. Grace, her name was. It didn’t take much, just a smile from me and she’d melted completely.

Elena needs better employees.

I’d sent her a message after I’d gotten her number, and I know she’s seen it, but she isn’t replying. I don’t like to play chase, but her determination to stay away from me makes me want to taunt her even more.

She deserves that much after how she pushed me away seven years ago. I imagine all the ways I could punish her, but the one that strikes me the most is her naked and blindfolded, not knowing what part of her body I’ll torture next.

Christ, I think I need more drink.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until my reflection stares back at me from the glass I’m holding.

“Dante told me you met that woman at the gala.”

I shift my gaze to Marcus. He’s looking at me as if a screw has gone lose in my head. I swear it’s more than just one screw.

“So?”

“So?” He leans forward. “What are you going to do?”

I shrug and pour myself more alcohol. “What’s there to do? She’s history.”

He gives me a lop-sided grin. “Given the way you were smiling at your phone just now, I don’t think she’s history, brother. Just so you know, I heard from Dante she’s seeing someone.”

My jaw clenches. I think the glass will shatter if I gripped it as tight as I was any longer, so I slam it on the table. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“I think you will soon enough.” The smirk on his face is evil. Marcus is the opposite of me. He puts his head to work more than his fists or gun, but when he chooses to be badass, even the devil grabs a seat to learn from him. “He saw a child through the window. He’s not certain the kid is hers though, could be her best friend’s. Moira was home with him.”

A lump forms in my throat, and it’s almost cutting off my airflow. Marcus is trying to get a reaction from me. Marcus knows me better than I know myself, and he sees right through the bullshit I put up. He knows I hate Elena, and he also knows beneath my hate, my feelings for her haven’t died yet.

I detest that he reads me like an open book.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

A smile tickles his lips, but it fades as worry causes his brow to wrinkle. “I’ve known you my whole life, brother,” he says, “something’s bothering you, and I have a feeling it has to do with that woman.”

I pull a pack of cigarette from my pocket and light one, dragging in the smoke. “I have two problems, Marcus. A woman is not one of them.” It’s not completely a lie, it’s just that Elena is the antidote to the fury burning through me every second since I returned to New York.

She’s like venom to my system, but I’ve learnt even venom can save lives. There are bigger problems than my dislike for her, and thinking of her is the only way I can keep sane.

He glides a finger over his cufflinks. “What is it then?”

“I need to find our parent’s killer.” Anger licks the walls of my stomach as I say it, images of the night my parents died flashing through my brain. “And I need to take over this city. We’ve been slack long enough and the Bratva are making a mess of this city.”

Marcus’s eyes flash red through the neon light, and his jugular bulges, but it’s over as quickly as it started. My brother has mastered the act of keeping his emotions in check.

He hadn’t shown he was angry or sad after our parents died. Even now, he keeps those emotions himself, but I know more than anyone, he is just as thirsty for revenge as I am. He’d been very close to our mother.

“Do you still think Peterson had something to do with their deaths?”

I lean towards the table and flick my cigarette on the ashtray. “He has the motive, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

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