Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“And when Anthony went after your son, he said it was an eye for an eye. Dominick thinks he’s pissed that my dad took his supposed heir, so he wants to take Dominick’s.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “And I’m just supposed to be okay with all this?”
“No,” she says. “You don’t have to be okay with anything, but you do have to accept that this is the world you and your son live in now.
“Dominick isn’t our father. The second our father died, Dominick cut ties with Anthony’s family. He refused to allow any more arranged marriages, and he started cleaning up the streets that our father had dirtied.
“He’s spent the past four years building his legal businesses, expanding on real estate, purchasing and renovating run-down businesses, but it takes time to undo what our father did. And some of it can never be undone, so rather than fight against it, he’s working it to his advantage so he’s in control. Because if he’s not, someone else will be. And what if that person is anything like Andrey?”
She quirks a perfectly manicured brow, and I nod in understanding.
“Dominick has no choice but to be ruthless,” she says. “If you show a moment of weakness, you’re dead. We live in a kill-or-be-killed world, and Dominick will do everything in his power to ensure we stay alive.”
“And what about you?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Where do you fit into all this?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, and for a moment, she looks how I feel—vulnerable and insecure and so damn lost. But then she sucks in a deep breath and releases it, squares her shoulders, and juts out her chin. “I’m forced to be here, the same as you. But it’s pointless to fight against it. I’m pretty and rich, and I have nothing better to do than have fun, so that’s what I’m going to do.” She stands and smiles down at me. “The sooner you get on board, the better. Besides, it’s obvious you have a thing for my brother. Just let all your preconceived notions go and let it flow.”
She stands and starts to walk away, but then she stops and looks back at me. “I’m going to Kings Point with some friends to have a drink tonight if you want to join.”
“What’s King’s Point?”
“An upscale club my brothers own.”
“I don’t have anyone to watch Damien.”
“Martha,” Brielle calls out, and a moment later, Martha peeks around the corner.
“Yes, Brielle?”
“Any chance you want to keep an eye on Damien tonight? Ricky will be here too.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile. “I can watch that sweet boy for you anytime. I’m only a hundred feet away.”
“What?” I ask in confusion, making Martha laugh.
“My dear, I thought you knew. I live in the living quarters in the back. It’s where all the full-time employees live.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I’ve seen the guards walk back and forth between the house and what I thought was a pool house, but I didn’t know anyone lived there. “Are you sure? I could, um, pay you extra.”
Martha laughs. “Oh, no. Trust me, Dominick pays me plenty. I don’t mind at all.”
“Perfect,” Brielle says. “Be ready to go in an hour.”
“Won’t Dominick be home by then?” I ask.
“Doubtful.” Brielle shrugs. “He mentioned getting answers, and the torturing usually takes a while.”
I glance at Martha, and she doesn’t look shocked at all as she goes back to wiping down the counters.
“Who our family is, along with what we do, isn’t a secret,” Brielle explains. “All the employees sign NDAs, but even if they didn’t, the Antonov reputation speaks for itself. Nobody would dare cross us.”
“Anthony did, and whoever’s messing with the shipments is too.”
“Let me rephrase,” she says. “Nobody in their right mind or without a death wish would dare cross us.”
25
Dominick
“Two shipments in less than a month,” Matteo says as we walk into the warehouse. “Someone is fucking with us.”
He’s right. If they had actually stolen the shipments, it would be one thing. But the fact that they were only out to destroy them tells us that they were trying to send a message. They got away with it the first time, burning thousands of dollars in drugs, but our guys were prepared this time and saved the weapons.
“Do you know who he is?” I ask.
“Nope. None of the men do. He’s not from these streets.”
My brother makes it a point to know everyone, so for him not to know this person means we have new players in town.
“Well, hello there,” I say to the man currently tied down to the metal chair.
He’s dressed in a holey black T-shirt and ripped jeans—the kind from years of wear, not purchased as a fashion trend—and his shoes are old and worn. He’s sporting a myriad of shitty tattoos up and down his arms and on his neck, which look like they were probably done in jail or in someone’s basement. I assume he’s broke, which means he was most likely paid to do this. He might not even know who hired him.