Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
My father, it seemed, had done one thing right in his life. He’d made it almost impossible for anyone to infiltrate his empire.
Even his own son.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Phoenix
“I miss war.” I slid the black folder across the table and waited. Luca was supposed to be golfing. Hell, Luca was supposed to be dead, and yet there he was sitting across from me smoking a cigar and staring down at the black folder like it was diseased.
“War,” he said as he clenched his teeth on the cigar, “is easier to plan for than peace, don’t you think?”
I grunted. “It’s all there, Luca.”
“I see that.”
“You haven’t even opened it.”
“I know what’s inside.” He drummed his fingertips along the table and then eyed me. “Two boys, one girl?”
I nodded.
“And they have no idea?”
“No, but they’ll find out soon. I don’t know how the De Langes got the information, information only you and I have access to other than Mil…” I grit my teeth. “Mil, may her soul fucking rot in Hell, gave it to them. She was the only other person who would dare. We don’t have a rat that’s living, we have a rat that’s dead, festering in the ground, still ruining what peace we have left. They’ll use whatever they can to gain the upper hand, you know this.”
“Yes.” Luca tapped his fingers along the black folder like it would suddenly open and read itself to him, like he was afraid of the truth inside of it.
The secrets I held as the head of the Nicolasi family would one day kill me. Truth.
The secrets he refused to share with me, and would take to his gave, were already killing him. Truth.
“Who have you told?” he asked, his clear blue eyes locked in on me and I knew what he was really asking. He wanted me to keep it quiet for as long as I could.
“What’s one more secret between friends?” I stood and grabbed the folder and slid it back toward my side of the table while he reached for his wine. “Andrei doesn’t have any clue, does he?”
“What I kept from him, I did to protect him.” Luca stared into his wine. “He was too young at the time, too angry.”
I snorted out a laugh. “He’s still young, still angry.”
Luca shrugged. “Apparently, I like to pick young angry little miscreants, don’t I?”
I grinned. “Touché.”
“We’ll keep it quiet for now, see if the De Langes strike first blood.”
“And if they do?”
“We may lose one life, we may lose them all, but one thing I know for certain, is we will rain a holy hell on that bloodline, the one you asked me to cut from your very skin, the one that defies the rest of the four families by standing alone, I would rather take in the entire Petrov family than let the De Langes win.”
I sighed. “That’s good, because you may have to.”
“It’s not that I’m disgusted with vodka, it’s that wine is so much more… classy.” He lifted the glass to his lips and with that, I knew our discussion was done.
He would disappear like he always did, until it was time for me to find him again.
And I would work like hell to make sure that I kept the secrets safe.
Kept the families safe.
Kept my wife and my son safe.
Blood stained my hands, blood the color as thick and red as the wine in his glass. I built my life on it; I would leave this world with it.
“Luca…” I shouldn’t have spoken it. That’s what I thought even as I said it. “We’ll need to raise our children different. Junior will need to know pain in order to survive.”
Luca’s face was sad. “The next generation must know the difference between peace and war, pain and torture, they will need to respect the families in ways that will haunt them for the rest of their lives, and this will be your job, Phoenix. Your curse will be that your son will one day look at you with hatred and you will be thankful for it because as long as you hate, you survive. Yes, you will raise them different, because you will want them to live.”
We sat in silence as we often did when he visited.
And I wondered if I was the sort of father that would rather kill my own son than expect him to become a monster like myself.
I loved him too much.
My love made it even more dangerous, because I knew it wasn’t just me, but every other man in the four families, each of us would one day have to ask ourselves if it was worth it.
And we would each have to decide for ourselves.
I could have sworn in that moment I had a premonition of Serena and Junior sitting at this very table with black folders talking.