PLAYLIST
“Find Me” by TeZATalks
“Dead To Me” by Melanie Martinez
“Want It” by SoMo
“Blood//Water” by grandson
“King” by Niykee Heaton
PROLOGUE
BONES
Twelve years old
“DILLAN, LET ME tell you what will get you through this life.” My father sits across from me at the table while I eat a snack. “Show me a man in love, and I’ll show you his greatest weakness.”
I frown. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, he will put her first before anything else, even himself.” Picking up his glass of scotch, he throws it back. My father is always drinking. Doesn’t matter if it’s six o’clock in the morning or midnight. “You and your brother will have a lot of enemies, son. And every one of them will know this.”
“Why would we have enemies?” I’m not dumb. I’m old enough to know that my father does some shady stuff with very powerful men who are as rich as they are evil.
He smirks as if what I said was funny. “Because you two will have what others want.”
“Love?” I question.
“No.” He snorts. “Kingdom.”
I don’t want it, but I keep that thought to myself. He already knows how I feel about the hotel and casino he owns with his two partners—the Three Wisemen. My father just doesn’t care. None of them do. I, along with my little brother and two best friends, will have no choice but to take it over one day.
My father holds up the empty glass and stares at it while speaking to me. “Love makes a man weak. Because a man in love would rather save her than himself.”
My eyes drop to the table, and I think about his words. “But you married Mom,” I say, looking up at him. I would never consider my father to be weak.
The corners of his lips turn up into a sinister smirk. “I didn’t say a man didn’t need a woman. I said a man in love is a vulnerable one. Although, women are useful for few reasons.” His eyes meet mine. “You’ll figure those out later in life.”
CHAPTER ONE
BONES
Fourteen years later
I SIT AT my desk on the thirteenth floor of Kingdom when my door flies open, hitting the interior wall with a loud bang. I look up to see Luca Bianchi, a longtime friend, barging into the large space.
“Hey …” I trail off when he shoves his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and begins to pace. His shoes slap on the marble floor. “Luca?”
“What would you do if Grave was in trouble?” he asks, his voice sounding rough.
I place my cell on the desk and lean back in my chair, crossing my tattooed arms over my chest. I get mad at my brother, but he’s still my baby brother. “I’d bail him out.” No matter the cost or situation. I’ve been doing it all my life. “Is he in trouble?” I ask, getting worried.
I just saw Grave last night when we had our Sunday get-together at April’s and his house. He seemed well. Better than well, actually. He and April announced their engagement. I believe with every part of me that woman saved his life. Grave was headed down a road that would lead him to his death sooner rather than later. But he fell in love, and she demanded better of him. He loved her enough to give it to her.
“No. This isn’t about Grave.”
I frown. “Is it about Nite?” Oliver Nite-Bianchi is his adopted brother. Luca’s parents took Nite in when they found him on the streets. I believe his father did it to grow his army, but in the end, he’s provided Nite with a life he could only dream of.
“It’s about me.” Luca sighs heavily.
My frown deepens. “You need me to bail you out of something? Just name it.”
Luca has been a best friend of the Kings since we were young. His father—John Bianchi—is a Don; the ringleader of the Italian-American Mafia. Our fathers were business partners in a sense. We furthered that tradition. I even went into business with Luca—Glass is one of Las Vegas’s elite strip clubs—as his silent partner. Well, I say silent, but I’m pretty sure everyone knows and just lets me believe that they don’t.
He rips his Armani suit jacket off his shoulders and throws it across the room, where it lands on the black rug. Then he’s unbuttoning his white dress shirt.
“Luca …” I sit up straighter. “What the hell is going on?”
He ignores me. Instead, he continues to undress, kicking his shoes across my room and undoing his slacks while throwing his shirt. Within seconds, he’s down to his black boxer briefs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, getting frustrated as to why my friend is undressing in front of me. I’ve never seen him like this.
“I’m proving to you I’m not wired,” he rushes out.