Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Chapter 13
Adriano
Luca parks the car outside a tall downtown skyscraper. “Leave the car here,” I tell him and climb out.
He follows, locking the black BMW as we stride toward the lobby together. I’m feeling slightly refreshed after getting a few hours of sleep, and now I’m ready to burn this city to the ground.
But first, a bit of important business.
Once inside, I bypass security and get on the elevators. Luca leans against the wall, checking his phone as we rise to the twenty-fifth floor. Not even a prime level in this second-rate building. Look how far the fight has fallen.
“How do you want to play this?” Luca asks once the elevator slides open. We step into a small entry room with another ornate door up ahead. The name WILLING-MORRIS FUND is written in gold script at the top of the frosted glass.
“Follow my lead. You’ll be the silent and deadly type.”
Luca grins. “Just be myself. Understood.”
I push my way into WMF and approach a startled-looking secretary. She’s older, in her fifties, with a big pouf of blonde hair and a pinched frown. “Hello, sir. Do you have an appointment?”
“Adriano Marino here to see Pierre Willing-Morris.”
She seems frazzled as she types at her keyboard. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”
I stride past her and into the fund’s interior. Luca keeps pace with me, grinning like he’s enjoying this.
I’m honestly having fun too.
“Sir!” the secretary cries out and starts to follow. “Sir, Mr. Willing-Morris is in a meeting right now. Sir, you can’t just—”
I survey my new kingdom. The main trading room floor is composed of dozens of computers and monitors lined up along an open seating plan. Men of all ages are seated there, some typing, some talking on the phone, others looking like they’re doing absolutely nothing. How the hell a failing hedge fund has so many employees, I’ll never know. A fucking scam is what it must be. Heads will roll soon.
“Attention, everyone,” I say, and a bunch of confused faces stare back. The secretary’s still buzzing around me, but I only ignore her as Luca gently moves her back. “My name is Adriano Marino, and I’m your new boss. I don’t know how this fund has been managed up to this point, but there are going to be changes. I hope you’re all prepared.”
“What the fuck?” I hear someone mutter, but otherwise, it’s dead silent.
I walk past them and straight to the far corner office. Pierre’s standing in his doorway now, his face ghost pale, his eyes wide. He’s looking around like he expects someone to come save him. I march straight up to the bastard and shove him hard back into his office.
He staggers and nearly falls. I head inside as the secretary lets out a shocked yelp. Luca slams the door behind me.
“What the fuck is this about, Marino?” Pierre asks, eyes darting from Luca back to me. “My grandmother didn’t mention—”
“You know damn well what this is about.” I stare at my brother-in-law. I can see some of Lucy in him. The skin color, the nose. But where she’s beautiful and dignified, I find this man to be a pathetic, simpering piece of shit.
He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I know you have some kind of deal with her, but I’ve been running this fund for years.”
“And you’ve done nothing but tread water, at best.”
“Before me, this place was going bankrupt.” His face turns red with outrage. “I turned it around. I made it profitable.”
“And you’ll continue to do that.”
He hesitates. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that. “You’re going to leave me in charge?”
“In name only,” I clarify, walking slowly over to his nice view. “You were at the wedding last night. You’re aware that I have enemies.”
“That was terrible, what happened,” he murmurs softly. “I hope everyone’s okay.”
“They are, no thanks to you. I made sure my men handled it.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“But that incident only made it clear that I don’t have much time to shore up my power. I need this fund, and I need it immediately.” I turn to face him. “You’re going to start washing my fucking money, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face because the fund will take a small cut for every dollar it cleans.”
His eyes go wide. I let him process that statement. Then he shakes his head. “That’s insane. We’re a hedge fund, not some crooked fucking deli.”
“Exactly. You’re a hedge fund. That’s way worse than a crooked fucking deli. The first wire transfer should come through in the next few hours. You’re going to make sure I get back ninety-eight percent of that, clean, clear, and taxable. Two percent is your take.”
His jaw works. He’s clearly outraged. I wait for him to grow a spine, but instead, he surprises me.