Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Any time an Underboss is about to step up into the role of the Boss of the family, he’s watched like a hawk. Weaknesses can be exploited, which means I can’t show any. I must be the cold-hearted son of the former most dangerous man in Italy. My father may no longer be around, but he’s still remembered and feared. I want to be like that one day, and with each calculated move I make, I’m ensuring my name will be right up there with my father’s.
“It’s nice to see you, Mrs Hamilton,” I tell her. “I have a meeting with Mr H.”
I stop at her desk, waiting as she picks up the phone and taps out a number before pressing the device to her ear.
The woman is friendly enough, but I can tell she’s not entirely comfortable with me standing over her. It’s something I’ve noticed when I’m around people—they look at me with fear, but there’s also a hint of respect. I don’t know if it’s because of the name I carry, or if they’ve heard about the things I’ve done.
“Mr Venier has arrived, shall I send him up?” She listens for a long while before nodding and placing the receiver on the desk. “You’re welcome to go up. He’s in his office.”
“Thank you,” I offer before I leave her and make my way to the lift.
It’s not a skyscraper, so the ride up doesn’t take long. When the doors slide open, I’m deposited outside a set of double, mahogany doors. The heavy wood muffles the sounds from inside the office, but the moment I push them open, I’m met with two men I’ve never seen before as well as Hamilton himself. They’re all seated, and their eyes land on me when I enter.
“Ah, Judah,” Hamilton greets me by my first name, instead of adhering to the usual formalities.
He pushes to his feet and rounds his desk with a wide grin on his face. When he reaches me, he takes my hand in his and pulls me into the kind of one-armed hug I usually reserve for my friends. But I allow it.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr H,” I say, keeping up the pretence of familiarity he so clearly wants to display.
I’m not sure who these men are, but something about them doesn’t sit well with me. Whenever I walk into a room, I’ve learnt from my father to always take in every detail of anyone I meet. Whether they’ve got weapons, where their hands are placed at their sides, and if there’s a hint of nervousness in their demeanour. The men watch the interaction between my father’s solicitor and me with interest.
Hamilton leads me to a chair that’s situated opposite his desk. From this vantage point, I can study the men in more detail. One of them is dressed in a dark, pinstripe suit, bright red tie, and a crisp white shirt. His hair is dark, and his eyes are as black as night. He pushes to his feet, holding out his hand to me. I don’t move, because I don’t know who he is and I don’t trust anyone. I leave his hand hanging in the air, and when he realises I’m not going to shake it, he clears his throat as he pulls it back and nervously straightens his cuffs.
“Nice to finally meet you. I’m Mr Juliano,” he says, his Italian accent thick around the words. “I work for Mr Saviatti,” he informs me, and I quickly recognise the name.
Emilio, one of the Lawless Princes, is a Saviatti. He doesn’t use the last name, and I don’t blame him. If my father ignored the fact I’m alive, I wouldn’t want any link to him either.
Allowing my knees to bend, I sink into the chair Hamilton offered me. My hands grip the armrests as I glance over at the man sat beside Juliano.
“And you are?” I enquire.
“Mr Saviatti. I’m Emilio’s biological father,” he tells me, shame dripping from his lips as he confesses something that makes my hackles rise.
I don’t like this. Something is very off in this interaction, and I need to get out of here. But before I do, I’m going to get answers.
“So, you’re the bastard who decided it’s better to leave him with monsters than to care for him yourself?”
“Judah,” Hamilton admonishes me, but I don’t give a shit.
I’m not a kid anymore. I’m on a level playing field with this bastard, and I don’t have to cower to him. I no longer believe in respecting anyone who doesn’t earn it. You do good, I’ll give you the respect you deserve, but if you’re an arsehole, I’ll treat you like one. And I won’t feel an ounce of guilt about it either.
“No, he’s right. I made a mistake when I was younger. Both my children deserve better than me, and that’s why I’m here. To finally come clean and pay for my sins,” the old man tells me.