“What I mean is I planted a bullet in his skull.”
“You killed your wife’s father? I have to say, Alexius, that’s cruel even for you.”
“Cut the bullshit. We all know you’re behind it. You arranged for Federico Dinali to be granted parole.”
“Why on Earth would I do that?”
I want to wipe that smug grin off his face. Patronizing fucker knows how to turn my blood to fire. “I know about your plan, Roberto.”
“What plan? Seriously, Alexius, you’re not making any sense.” He straightens his sleeves.
“The plan to have that perverted son of a bitch go around town telling everyone he has ties with the Del Rossa family. To have him get close to my wife, blackmail her, keep her in your sights until you’re ready to strike.”
Silence passes, and he doesn’t even fucking blink. My chest burns with cruelty aimed at my uncle, a savage need to cut his throat and watch him choke on his blood, a brutal desire to hear him scream from the pain caused by the tip of my blade grating down his spine.
“That’s preposterous,” he snarls. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t sit in that goddamn chair. You’re a conniving little shit who will conjure up lies so your actions are justified.”
I scoff. “I don’t need to justify anything. I have all I need to get rid of you. The recording of how you planned on killing my father. Your plan to kill my wife.”
“Kill your wife? That’s insane.” His fat fingers struggle to button his suit jacket. “How did you come up with these blatant lies?”
“A little birdie told me.”
“A what?”
I cut my gaze to Rome, who steps closer, his shoulders squared, nothing but pure resolve painted on his features. “I told him.”
Roberto’s eyes flash with shock, and I’m sure all the blood just drained from his body. A sheen of sweat beads along his eyebrows as he turns to look at Rome. “You?”
Oh, this is one substantial motherfucking biblical moment, watching the surprise on Roberto’s face as he stares at his son, the shadow of betrayal clouding his expression. “Is this your doing, son?”
Rome licks his lips, straightening as he pulls on the hardened demeanor of a son who carries the secrets of a boy who has been wronged by the man who’s supposed to protect him. “I can’t stand back and watch you ruin their lives as you’ve ruined mine.”
“What?” Roberto’s eyes flash with a scheming glint. “Jesus, son. What lies have you told them?”
“I told them the truth.”
Roberto shakes his head lightly, sucking his bottom lip into his disgusting mouth. “Then I guess you’ve told them about your problem?” he says with a smooth but fake tone of disappointment.
Rome narrows his eyes. “What problem?”
“It pains me to bring up this delicate matter, son, but I can’t have you go around slandering my name and making up stories.”
“Oh, believe me, no one can slander your shitty name as much as my brothers and me,” Nicoli remarks with a cocky grin.
Roberto shoots him a deadpan look, then returns his fake sympathetic stare at his son. “You’re a compulsive liar, Rome. And you have been since you were a little boy, always making up stories, trying to stir conflict.”
Rome starts to laugh, a cackle of mocking amusement. I remain silent as I watch the dominoes start to fall in place, and I’d be a liar if I said I’m not enjoying every goddamn moment of it.
“You really think they’ll believe you?” Rome asks, pointing at us while glaring at his father.
“It’s the truth.”
“You’ve burned this bridge, Dad. No one trusts you anymore because you’re a greedy, sick, two-timing asshole who doesn’t deserve a goddamn bowl to piss in.”
“Amen,” Nicoli chimes in. “I’m starting to like our cousin.”
Roberto stalks up to Rome, who is almost a foot taller than his old man. “You are a liar. And the truth is, you’re a fucking disappointment. I should have kill—”