Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
He gestures between Emmaleen and me, his grin widening.
"—now yer standin' in my foyer, covered in blood, lookin' like ya went twelve rounds with a cement mixer, and what do ya do? Do ya lead with strategy? Threat assessment? Tactical positioning?"
"Get to the point, Ó Fearghail."
"No, G. Ya recite terza rima. Dante's fuckin' rhyme scheme. Three octopus hearts, and ocean veils, and beaks squeezin' through stone walls or whatever poetic shite that was. It's brilliant. Demented, but brilliant."
He laughs—genuinely laughs.
"The lads at Auggies would've lost their collective minds. Remember that? When Brother Thomas tried to make us memorize Donne for Lent? Ya spent six weeks arguin' the structural flaws in 'Death Be Not Proud' like ya were peer-reviewin' a dissertation on market inefficiencies. Never once admitted ya liked it."
"I didn't."
"Liar."
I tighten my grip on Emmaleen's waist.
"And yet here ya are," Lorcan continues, still grinning like he's won something. "The man who weaponizes silence, the king of cold calculation—reduced to love sonnets and metaphorical cephalopods. Father Patrick would be delighted."
Emmaleen is smirking now too. "He's not wrong."
Jino breaks up our light moment by stepping forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "How the fuck did you survive walking into Luca LaRiccia's compound?"
I meet his eyes. "I told him the truth."
"Which truth?" Lorcan asks, his tone careful.
"Rico broke into my pool house. Raped my woman. Murdered her." I pause. "That's why he needed to die."
The room goes completely silent.
Emmaleen's body tenses against mine, but I don't look down at her. I keep my gaze locked on Jino, watching him process the implications.
"Emmaleen is dead?" Jino asks slowly, realization dawning.
"Yes."
"No witness."
"Correct."
Jino exhales, his shoulders dropping slightly. "So… she's safe now."
"That was the idea."
The silence that follows is absolute—thick and heavy. Everyone's processing. Everyone's calculating. Everyone's realizing that the entire equation just changed.
And in that stillness, my grip tightens fractionally on Emmaleen's waist.
Because I'm suddenly, acutely aware that she might be doing the same calculation.
That the reason she stayed—the reason she knelt, the reason she submitted, the reason she let me collar her like a possession—wasn't just want.
It was necessity.
She was a living witness to the murder of a Mafia Boss's only heir.
And now… she's a dead witness.
She doesn't need me anymore.
But in this same moment, she leans into my chest. "Thank you, my King."
She doesn't realize it yet, but this is only the beginning—there will be countless chances ahead for her to reconsider, to slip away, to decide this life isn't what she wants after all.
Lorcan pushes off the doorframe, his expression shifting from amused to calculating. "Wait—hold on. Ya walked in there, confessed to killin' his heir, and Luca just... let ya walk out?"
"Essentially."
"Bollocks." Lorcan's eyes narrow. "Luca LaRiccia doesn't let people who murder his son just stroll back to their Lamborghinis. What did ya trade?"
I don't answer immediately.
"Giovanni." Lorcan's voice drops. "What did ya give him?"
I glance down at Emmaleen, then back at Lorcan.
"Something he wanted more than revenge."
Jino crosses his arms. "Which was?"
"A better son."
The words land hard.
Lorcan stares at me. "You're jokin'."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Ya offered yerself? To Luca LaRiccia? As what—his fuckin' heir?"
I meet Lorcan's eyes.
"I told him what we both already knew."
Jino shifts his weight. "Which was?"
"That Rico was a disappointment. A liability. A walking disaster wrapped in cocaine and daddy issues." I pause. "And that Luca deserved better."
Lorcan's expression shifts to something like horror. "Jesus Christ, G."
"I told him he built an empire that required precision, discipline, vision—and Rico had none of it. That his son was going to destroy everything Luca spent forty years constructing. I told him the truth. Rico died doing exactly what he always did—acting on impulse, crossing lines, creating messes other people had to clean up."
"And he just... accepted that?" Jino asks quietly.
"No." I touch the split in my lip. "He put a gun to my head first."
Emmaleen makes a small sound against my chest.
"But then I told him something else. I told Luca that he represents everything I wished my father had been. Ruthless, yes. But competent. Focused. Actually deserving of the empire he controls."
"Giovanni—" Jino starts.
"And that I represent everything he wished Rico had become."
Silence.
"Strategic. Controlled. Worthy of legacy."
Lorcan stares at me like I've just admitted to setting myself on fire.
"How?" Jino's voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "How the fuck could Luca possibly believe you after you murdered his son?"
I meet his eyes.
"Because I made a trade."
"What kind of trade?"
I take a breath.
"I swore to betray Salvatore and the Bavga family. I will provide Luca intelligence on all Bavga operations—shipping routes, suppliers, distribution networks, law enforcement contacts. Every piece of leverage Salvatore has built over thirty years. Every vulnerability. Every secret." I pause. "I'm giving Luca everything he needs to dismantle my father's empire piece by piece."
Jino's face goes white, then red. "That's my family too, Giovanni."