Page 57 of The Don's Hidden Heir

Peterson grunts and raises himself to his feet. He slams a fist on my desk. His darkening eyes contrast the smile on his lips. “Don’t be too sure. You may have a very good reason to see me again. Your son looks just like you. I should invite him and his mother over for dinner sometime.”

I look Peterson dead in the eye, my gaze unwavering. “You’ll stay away from Elena and Lucas or I’ll make sure you never see the light of day ever again.”

His smile falters and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’ll take my leave now, Nephew.”

He smooths his burgundy suit and adjusts his tie then turns around to leave. When he reaches the door, I can’t resist getting in the last word. “One more thing, Uncle.”

He turns around to face me. “Let Kirill know I’m coming for him and he won’t survive it when I do.”

***

I’m at one of the clubs five hours later, sipping whiskey and still seething with anger from my encounter with Peterson.

Music thumps from the speakers tucked away in the corners of the club and the flickering lights threaten to blind me. It’s ironic how I own the biggest clubs in New York, yet I can’t stand the blaring music or the strobing lights.

A whore walks up to the pole across from me and begins to dance. She twists her waist, shakes her ass and gives me ‘come hither’ looks.

She’s sexy and it’s entertaining watching her dance, but the only woman who makes my cock rock hard is Elena. I can’t wait to go back home to her and our son.

I lift my hand and glance at my watch. It’s almost seven p.m., thirty minutes left before Marcus brings Alexei over to the warehouse.

My phone buzzes just as I drop my hand and Marcus’s number flash on the screen when I lift it from my pocket.

“He’s here,” Marcus says when I answer. “What should we do with him?”

“Tie him up. You can knock out a tooth or two if he tries to fight. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Si.”He hangs up.

It takes ten minutes for me to get to the port. A cold breeze greets me when I climb from my car. The port is serene at night, silent apart from the soft lapping of waves against the harbor walls. The stillness is of my favorite things about this place at night.

A crescent moon hangs overhead, its light shimmering on the surface of the water and illuminating the dock. I can see Dante and Marcus from where I’m standing. I also spot a man, hands behind his back with my men surrounding him.

When I walk up to them, I notice Marcus’s eye is swollen. “What happened to your face?”

“Russian fucker wouldn’t go down without a fight,” Marcus retorts.

Alexei glares at me. His eyes are almost as dark as his raven hair. A tattoo covers most of his right hand and he has a stare that spits venom. If looks could kill, there would be a hole in my heart right now.

He’s handsome, better than most Bratva lunatics I’ve seen. It’s hard to believe he’s Kirill’s son. That old fucker shares no resemblance to the man in front of me.

“What the fuck do you want?” Alexei growls. He’s fearless.

I smile. “Forgive my manners. I’m Dominic Romano. Capo of the Cosa Nostra.”

He spits at my feet in response. “Get lost!‘svoloch.”

I think I underestimated Alexei. He’s every bit the man his father isn’t. I like him. “Untie him.”

Dante and Marcus both whip their heads to me. I repeat my order. “Untie him.”

Two of the bodyguards hurry to Alexei, release the binds, then help him to his feet. At six feet four, Alexei is almost taller than me. “What do you want?” he drawls, shooting up an eyebrow.

“You.”

He scoffs. “You’re one of those crazy Italians. Too bad, I have no intentions of belonging to you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet my family. It’s been years since I saw any of them.”

He brushes sand from his slacks and turns to leave. I nod to the bodyguards. “Bring him back.”

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