Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“All I ever hear is the Skull King’s a psychopath.” He cut into his fish, which was soaked in spices and butter and lemon. “It’s the reason we don’t do business in Florence—even if it’s outside his jurisdiction. We’ve already got so much shit on our plate that we don’t need his bullshit. I’m all about striking fear into your subordinates and your enemies, but he strikes fear into everyone for just being alive.”
“Edric hasn’t said any of that.”
“He’s probably never in the room with him. A foot soldier.”
“Said it was a big pay advance.”
“The Skull Kings have a much bigger territory, so even a foot soldier might have more opportunities there. For his sake, I hope he doesn’t move too much. I would tell you to talk him out of it, but now that he’s in . . . I don’t think he can ever get out.”
Prologue V
Constantine
I arrived in Florence, checked into the Four Seasons, and then finally met Edric in the bar downstairs. It was a large room with low lighting, couches and chairs spaced out everywhere, and he was seated in the corner with a stiff drink already on a coaster. He looked a little more like me these days with the tattoos he’d added to his arms. He’d clearly started lifting more, too, because his arms were thicker. His eyes lit up at the sight of me. “There’s my bro.” He stood up and embraced me, our palms coming together before we gripped each other tightly and let go.
We got comfortable at the table, and the waitress immediately came over and took my drink order.
“Four Seasons, huh?” Edric asked. “You really are Tommaso’s favorite.”
I’d moved up quickly with Cosa Nostra, and I wondered if that was the reason Edric left. He didn’t want his failure to be compared to my success. My brother was the one who’d gotten me in with Cosa Nostra, but he’d quickly turned into an outlier because he was too stubborn to listen. The only reason sense wasn’t beaten into him was because Tommaso didn’t touch him out of respect for me.
In the end, I thought it was good that Edric left. I just wished he’d gone somewhere else. “How are things here?”
“No complaints.” He was in a short-sleeved black T-shirt, the black ink on his arms visible and spaced out. It had taken a long time to fill out my arms completely, which was why I started when I was young. It was an expensive endeavor too. So Edric seemed to have begun that long process. “Money is good . . . pussy pie is even better.”
“Pussy pie?” I asked.
“Yeah, try a slice while you’re here. I can introduce you.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So, how’s the gang?”
“The same,” I said. “Harold tried to double-cross us . . . got his head blown off.”
“I never liked that guy.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I said. “Tommaso suggested an arranged marriage between me and his fifteen-year-old daughter.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
I chuckled. “Wish I’d said something different.”
“No way.”
“He said when she’s twenty-five and I’m almost thirty-five. When I’m done sowing my oats. Still fucking weird, though.”
“Really fucking weird,” he said. “What’d you say?”
“Didn’t really say anything. Kinda backed out of it and changed the subject.”
“Damn, he fucking loves you, though. Thinking you’re good enough for his daughter.”
“He only feels that way because I took a bullet for him.”
“You got shot?”
“Kinda, not really.” I tugged up the sleeve of my shirt to show the mark where the bullet grazed me. “It was a graze. I’ll add ink and cover it.”
“Don’t commit to that marriage. There’s still a lot of time for her to get ugly.”
I chuckled. “She could end up being the most beautiful woman in the world, and I still wouldn’t be interested.”
“Because of Isabella?” he blurted.
“No,” I said with a scoff. “I would just never do an arranged marriage. And I don’t like the age gap either.”
“You’re the first man in history to say he doesn’t want a younger wife.”
“Younger is fine, but ten years is too big of a difference. We won’t have anything in common. We’ll be in different seasons of life—”
“Why do you need to have anything in common to smash?”
“If she’s my wife, then we’re going to do more than smash.”
He shrugged and took a drink.
“This is a stupid conversation.”
“So you do want to get married?”
“No, I don’t want to get married. But if, by chance, I met someone that I’d burn the world down for, then yeah.” But the odds of that were a million to one. In my line of work, I didn’t meet a lot of spectacular women, and a lot of spectacular women wouldn’t want to get mixed up with someone like me.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I’d always hoped that the Isabella thing didn’t permanently fuck you up.”