“Goddammit.” I paced up and down, my mind reeling in a million different directions. Right now, I was two things an Italian man should never be at the same time. Determined and desperate. “Okay, you go find Kate and take her to the study. I need to get Layla some breakfast, then I’ll meet you there.”
Lucio pulled on his leather jacket. “You know what I think about all this, right?”
“What?”
He opened the front door. “I think the only way to solve this is going over to the Mancuso mansion and kill every motherfucker we can get our hands on.”
I had to smile. “You know I’d be all over that plan if it was even remotely possible.”
“God, I hate all the strategic planning. What happened to good old-fashioned mobster wars where you didn’t give a fuck when or where you put a bullet in some poor bastard’s skull?”
“Dear cousin,” I placed my hand on his shoulder, “if I don’t get to the bottom of this very, very soon, we might just revert back to that good old-fashioned mobster war you crave so much.”
Lucio closed his eyes, the look of sheer delight painted all over his face. “A man can only dream.”
Smiling, I watched as he closed the door behind him. Even though Lucio was still young, he was an old-school mobster at heart. Sometimes I wondered why he was such a stone cold son of a bitch with not a compassionate bone in his body. I supposed the whole family wondered about him. One didn’t just get to be as cold-hearted as Lucio. Something turned him, but I had a feeling we would never find out what.
I took a deep breath and pulled my hands through my hair. My gut felt like someone shoved concrete slabs through my stomach. I wasn’t normally the type of guy who stressed too much about shit. But this wasn’t just any shit. This was Layla. This was the woman I loved, and that kind of upped the stakes. For years, I had lived like a man with nothing to lose, because truth be told, I really had nothing I could lose. Layla tore my heart out and took it with her, leaving behind a heartless bastard who didn’t give a shit. Now that she was back, I was suddenly a monster with a fucking heart, a beast with a weak spot…a demon with a goddamn soul. Karina was right. If I had to lose Layla all over again, I wouldn’t survive it. Not again. Not this time.
“Dante.”
I looked up and found my dad staring at me.
“Come join me in my study.”
Oh, fuck me sideways.
“Dad, I really—”
“It wasn’t a request.” The warning in his glare was loud and clear, and I sighed as I reluctantly walked into his study. I glanced at the grandfather clock, the loudtick-tockannoying the fuck out of me. As a boy, I used to daydream about taking a ten-pound hammer and smashing the fucking thing until it was nothing more than splinters. It was a miracle the damn thing was still standing with me living in the house.
It was just before ten in the morning, and since I couldn’t destroy the irritating as fuck clock, I thought it was as a good a time as any to start drinking. I poured myself a glass of bourbon.
My dad closed the door behind him. “Make that two.”
I shot him a sideward glance. “That’s very much unlike you, Dad. Drinking before noon.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s not the first time.” He took a seat on one of the leather couches, rubbing his palm down his face. Only then did I notice how tired he looked with the bags of fatigue under his eyes. The old man was getting—well, old.
“Dad, are you okay?” I handed him his drink.
“What do you think? Our family is on the verge of a full-on war. My son is a walking time bomb because of some woman. And I have a nephew with the potential to be the next American psycho walking around the house.”
I took a seat across from him. “You forgot having Lorik as a future son-in-law.”
“Don’t remind me.” He rubbed his temples, and I was once again reminded why I didn’t envy my dad, or Antonio, for that matter. All the worries and responsibilities causing the wrinkles around my father’s eyes would one day be Antonio’s. Thank God for the whole “the firstborn will take the throne” thing. I was not ashamed to admit I would have sucked being the boss. I was a lot of things, but a role model to others by adhering to the rules wasn’t one of them.
“Listen, Dante—”
“Dad, I know what you’re going to say.”
His brows knitted together. “You do?”
“Yes.” I tossed back my drink and placed the empty glass on the table next to me. “I understand your concern about the Layla and Matteo situation. But my instincts are telling me there’s something bigger going on, and—”
“Dante—”
“No, let me finish.” I took a deep breath. “For years, I’ve done everything you expected of me. You and Antonio trusted me enough to eliminate every threat, and to deal with delicate matters, things you couldn’t afford to get your hands dirty with. Now I’m asking you to trust me, to trust my instincts. Because, by God, I know I’m right about this.” I stood, my determination driving every action. “I know Layla is nothing more than a pawn to the Mancusos, and all of this is their plan to put our family in fucking checkmate. Am I the only one seeing the bigger picture here?”