Page 36 of The Don's Hidden Heir
“Try and see if you can tear his mouth off.” I bet he wouldn’t even make it past three steps before his dead body drops to the floor like a stupid sack of potatoes.
Matteo doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t pick the knife up either.
“You can’t?” I sigh, a new wave of fury boiling in my stomach. “I thought as much. Kick the knife to me, boy.”
Matteo withers when he meets his father’s disappointed stare. He kicks the knife in my direction.
“Good. Now sit your fucking ass down.”
Matteo’s demeanor is as stormy as a thundercloud, but he doesn’t dare go against my orders. He lets out what I assume is an angry growl before he glues his ass to his chair like a good puppy. The boy is barely a man.
“I’m not going to say it once, Victor, so listen good.” Bitterness burns my throat, carving its way from my stomach. “You’re going to regret it if I ever find out you lied to me tonight.”
Anger flashes in Victor’s eyes. He’s not taking my warning too well, he doesn’t need to. What matters is that he adheres to it because I mean every fucking word I just said. “Of course. I dare not go against you. I remember the war fifteen years ago, and everything I lost. I can’t begin to imagine it happening a second time.”
“We all lost something or someone,” Marcus chimes in. “Let’s make sure it never happens again. One more thing, you must not take sides if a war happens between the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” I walk to a minibar at a corner in my office, grab a glass and a new bottle of whiskey, then I pour myself a finger of drink. “This meeting’s over.”
Victor starts to leave but calls for my attention when he pauses by the door. “Are you back for good, Dominic?”
I don’t turn back to look at him. “I’m back to put thing in their rightful place.”Which is me on my throne, and everyone else underneath.
The door opens and then it closes. The room is silent, tension still lingers in the air.
“What do you think, brother?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence.
I think we’re in some deep shit.
I don’t say that though. Marcus already knows the worst enemies are the ones you can’t see. “From this point on, we don’t trust anyone.” I carry the drink to my desk. “Tell Vincent to come home. From this moment, we must be on guard.”
“Yes, brother.” Marcus rises to his feet and ambles to my desk. He reaches for my glass and downs my whiskey in one swig, then he slams the empty glass on the table. “What do you plan to do about your son?”
“Son?” Dante squints at me, his eyes begging for an explanation. “What son?”
“He has a son with that girl. Elena.” Marcus smiles and pats Dante on the shoulder. “Don’t be too surprised, mate. I found out I was an uncle yesterday.”
It takes a moment for Dante to process what he’s just heard. “Then I’m an uncle too?”
“You wish. The kid is my nephew. Mine and Vincent’s.” He looks Dante from head to toe. “You’re just a guy who works for his dad.”
Dante clutches his chest playfully. “That hurts, man. I thought we were family.”
“Not a chance,” Marcus tells him before shifting his attention back to me. “Tell me what you want me to do, brother.”
There’s only one thing to be done. “Tighten security around my son and his mother. Make sure to look into everyone around them. Also, please watch them yourself.”
Marcus nods. “I’ll cross the ocean for you, brother. Keeping your family safe is nothing. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” I turn to Dante. “Find out what club Vincent is wasting his life away in and drag him home. Break his legs if you need to, I just need him alive.”
Dante rises to his feet and strokes his shirt. “Trust me to do just that.” I know he will. Dante is even more displeased with Vincent’s lifestyle than I am.
Marcus and Dante nod at me then leave. The music gets louder when they open the door, then it fades to a mere whisper when the it closes behind them.
Once I am alone, my hands curl into back into fists and I allow my anger to show.