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“We’re monitoring your phone. So far, no one has called or texted you.”
I let out a huff as I fold my arms across my chest, immediately feeling violated at the lack of privacy.
“I’ll let you get ready,” he says, giving the outfit that I’m still wearing from yesterday a once-over. He turns to exit the room, but I stop him before he’s able to because I have one last question. One that will affect my future from here on out.
“Did the test results come in?” My heart pounds at an alarmingly fast rate while I wait to hear his response. Do I want to be related to Angelo? If I am, then that means I’m permanently tied to the Mafia. I don’t even understand what that means. But if I’m not, what does that mean for me finding my mom? Will they still help me?
Enzo glances over his shoulder, and instead of giving me his usual cocky smile, his mouth sets in a straight line. “Yeah. You’re a Mancini now, Luxtyn,” he says before walking out the door and closing it behind him.
I sulk down into the chair, squishing my duffle bag in the process. The room spins as I take in the realization that Angelo Mancini is my dad and I will have to marry Matteo to find my mom. The information I’ve been given in the past twenty-four hours hits me. This isn’t anything I expected when I got on that flight to New York City. How the hell did this happen?
14
MATTEO
The crack of splintering bone echoes in the room as I land a powerful jab to Francesco’s nose, causing blood to spill from his nostrils. It drips down, and the stain grows, ruining his crisp white shirt. I lower myself down to his level where he sits on a cheap metal chair in my makeshift interrogation cell in the basement of Fierce. Rocco pulls Francesco up by the nape of his neck so he’s forced to look into my eyes. His long dark hair shields his face from me, but he groans in pain. “What made you think you could steal from me, Francesco?”
Francesco is a young associate under one of my capos. Typically, I would have my capo handle this, but I was feeling a little restless this morning, like there was too much energy running through me. Energy I needed to burn off. I tried letting out some punches on the bag back at the gym I have in my penthouse, but that only increased my adrenaline. So when my capo informed me that one of his associates was getting a little greedy, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about, B-boss.”
How is this guy even an associate? He’s weak. I’ll be able to break him in no time.
“Okay, Francesco. I see how it’s going to go.” After pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to the tray of toys I had Rocco set out for me prior to bringing Francesco down here. I pick up the pruning shears and stalk back over to the pathetic excuse of a man who’s now dripping blood onto my shiny concrete floors.
I twirl the shears in my hands as I give Francesco a maniacal look, my gaze sharp on his. His eyes widen as they bounce back and forth between me and the shears. “I really didn’t want to have to get bloody this early in the morning, but you give me no choice.”
Rocco slams his hand on one of Francesco’s. It might already be strapped to the metal armrest, but cutting someone’s finger off is a nuisance when they’re constantly moving.
“No, no, no!” Francesco screeches as he realizes what I’m about to do. “Please, it wasn’t me. I promise! I would never steal from you, Matteo! I swear it!”
That’s a lie.
He fidgets and struggles to keep eye contact with me, and before he knows what’s happened, I slide one blade of the pruning shears underneath his pointer finger, right at the knuckle that’s closest to his fingertip, and clamp down. I slice right through the skin and bones, and the blood spurts in multiple directions. His howl bounces off the soundproof walls.
I lift his middle finger, prepared to do the same thing until he cries out, “Stop! Please, stop! I admit it, I admit it! I saved some of the cash!”
There we go.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I ask in acondescending tone while Francesco continues to weep in front of me.Pathetic.“What did you need the money for, Francesco?”
He whimpers as he answers, “Drugs.”
Ding, ding, ding.
This fucking waste decided to steal from me because he needed money for drugs, something I already had my suspicions of when my capo reached out to me about him. Fucking pathetic.
He groans when I put my weight on his knee to push myself up to my feet. It doesn’t help that I took a hammer to the spot before I broke his nose. “See what happens when you’re honest with me, Francesco? Now had you been honest with me sooner, it could’ve saved you from a lot of unnecessary pain.”
Rocco releases Francesco’s hand and backs away from him, knowing what’s going to happen next. I pull the Glock from the waistband of the back of my pants and shoot Francesco in the middle of his forehead. His body goes limp before the smoke from the pistol can dissipate in the air.
I pull my handkerchief out and start wiping off the blood that splattered on my gun. “Clean this up,” I say to Rocco. “Dump his body where no one will find it.”
He gets to work without a falter in his step. He’s one of my best, aside from my brother, that is. But since I’ve reassigned him to watch Luxtyn, Rocco will need to pick up a lot of the slack.
With it being 8:30 a.m., the club is empty, but Enzo and Luxtyn should be arriving soon, and I need to change before she sees the blood on my shirt, so I head up to my office. It’s not something I should care about since this is the life she’ll soon be married into, but a part of me still wants to shelter her from the worst of it.
I’ve changed my pants and am sliding my arms through myfresh white shirt when a pulling sensation comes from the stab wound in my back and sends a small trigger of pain to the surrounding area. It’s nowhere near the worst I’ve had, but it’s enough to remind me that my soon-to-be-wife stabbed me.
