Chapter 3

LUCCA

I move to the coffee table and slam down the picture of him with his gun aimed at Dennis Belmont, the late State’s Attorney who people believed committed suicide last week.

The time and date stamp on the picture have him placed with Dennis only hours before he was found dead in his beachfront home in Malibu by his mistress.

The blood siphons from Raphael’s face as he gazes down at the image resting before us.

“Thought you got guys like us to do your dirty work,” I state with a smile.

Raphael looks from me to Damien. He lingers on Damien for a little while, though, and Damien glares back at him with a hatred I know he wants to unleash.

I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him all these years, knowing Raphael was responsible for Timothy’s death and not ending him.

“You’ve been having me followed?” Raphael challenges.

“No, I have,” I cut in, and his gaze snaps back to mine.

This fucker knows what I’m capable of, knows I could snap his neck before he could take his next breath, yet he’s looking at me like I’m dog shit he’s trying to avoid stepping in. It’s the same look he’s given me since I was a child.

“You?”

“Yes, me. Want to see the rest of the pictures? These are my favorites.” I take out the other images and lay them out on the table. “This is you with your gun pointed at Dennis.” I tap on the image. “This is you standing over him with your gun aimed at his head while he lies dead on the ground with his brains blown out. I also have the video with your ugly mug killing his ass. You killed the State’s Attorney, Governor Raphael De Marchi. Why?”

It’s now he looks defeated, but the fucker he is still trying to carry his authoritative composure.

“That’s none of your business.”

I laugh. “Oh, really, Raphael? I think it is my business. I am the Obshchak of the Yurkov and head of the enforcement team.” He needs the reminder because it seems like he’s forgotten. “It’s my job to make sure things are as they should be. When they aren’t, and they affect the Brotherhood, it becomes my business.”

I’ve come a long way in the last three years. Grigori choosing me to be his Obshchak when Sedgwick, my predecessor, died was an honor and a helping hand I never saw coming.

It showed my value to the Pakhan although I know if this bastard in front of me were Russian, Grigori would have picked him.

“I’m sure Grigori is not going to be happy to hear what you’ve done,” I intone. “And neither will the nation. Imagine how quickly your political career will end when this gets out. Grigori will terminate your services once you’re of no use to him as Governor. Then you will rot away in prison.”

His face turns ashen, and his eyes become vacant. The fucker can finally see I’m not fucking around, and I’m serious.

“What do you want? If you were going to tell Grigori, you would have done it by now. You wouldn’t have taken my daughter, and we wouldn’t be here.”

I chuckle this time and glance at Damien. It’s time for him to talk. Raphael looks at him, too, noting the shift in attention.

“You’re a clever man, Raphael,” Damien says. “We’re willing to make you an offer. I don’t think you’ll refuse given the weight of the consequences.”

“What is the offer?”

“For our silence, we want Cervantes Ltd., and we’re fully aware of the unique circumstances surrounding the correct ownership of the company.”

Raphael’s eyes bulge with rage, and his hand’s fist at his sides. “No, you motherfucking dog.”

His reaction is exactly what I expected upon hearing we want his precious multibillion-dollar mining company. But it’s also clear he’s shocked to hear we know his secret in relation to the company ownership.

Damien gets up, grabs a bottle of whiskey from the minibar I keep on the side, and pours himself a glass.

The ice clinks against the crystal when he swirls it around and takes a sip.

“Yes,” Damien states with a nod of his graying head. “I think you meant to say yes.”

“Fuck you and fuck you for prying into my private affairs.”

“You make it sound like you’re owed privacy. You aren’t owed shit. Definitely not when the company isn’t even yours.”

“You bastard, find something else. You can’t have the company.”

“Unfortunately, that is the deal, Raphael. That is what we want.”

This is step two in his destruction—taking away his biggest source of income. This is why we had to play this game the way we have.

Cervantes belonged to Teresa De Marchi, Raphael’s late wife. She inherited it from her father on his death three years ago. I’m sure their marriage would have been arranged based on continuing the legacy via Raphael. Except, from my digging around, I found out, Teresa transferred her ownership of the company to Aria before she died. Teresa made arrangements for the transfer to complete when Aria turns twenty-five. That’s in two months.

If everybody else thought the company belonged to Raphael, I’m certain his daughter thinks the same too and is none the wiser that the company is actually hers. Not his in the least.

I might be wrong, but it looked like Teresa did everything possible so Raphael wouldn’t get the company because she left the company in an irrevocable living trust for Aria, which means nothing can be changed.

Raphael is only still in action because of Aria’s situation. He has legal guardianship over her and her assets because she lacks the mental capacity to manage her affairs. That means he gets complete control of everything, including the company.

That’s about to change.

“I’m not fucking doing it!” Raphael balks.

“If you fight us, you know what will happen,” I state, taking out my gun and holding it up. When he turns his attention back to me and sees it, I note the fear in his eyes. “I’m not above killing your ass right the fuck now and fixing this little situation, Raphael.”

“Damn you. What the fuck do you plan to do? If you’re fucking aware of the unique situation regarding the company’s ownership, you know I can’t just sign it over to you.”

“Oh, I know that. But I want you to pull some strings to sign over your legal guardianship of Aria to me. That way, when I marry your daughter in a month, I’ll technically co-own the company with her as stipulated by the conditions of the trust.”

His face darkens with the rage I can see burning him up. “Marry?!” His voice raises several octaves. “You will not marry my daughter, you motherfucking scum.”

That’s exactly what I thought he would say. “Oh yes, I think I will be. And like I’m sure you were planning, I’ll also do what’s in the best interest of the company and get the board to vote on her signing the ownership over to me.”

That is the plan, and it’s a fucking brilliant one.

Sun Tzu said it well in the true Art Of War— supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.

Marriage was never in the cards for me, and I don’t care for it. But I will do what I have to do.

I’ll also take the triumph in this moment for the way he looks. Shell shocked and like he might shit himself.

“You planned this well, boy, always wanted what you couldn’t have,” he snarls, and I curse myself when his words pierce through my thick armor.

A light of silent understanding passes between us that only he and I are privy to. I know he’s remembering that day eons ago when he caught me watching his daughter and stoned me.

This is not about that. I’m not that boy anymore.

I am death. I point at the image of him killing Dennis with my gun. “Clock’s ticking, De Marchi. I’m a busy man. I need an answer now, or this is going viral.”

“You won’t get away with this,” he seethes.

“I think I already have. Haven’t I?” I smile.

“Fucking bastard.”

“Yes, I am. Dad,” I taunt, trying out the word to make him crazy. It makes me sick, so I can just imagine what he must feel. “I’ll have a contract I want to be signed in blood sent to your office later. I need it back by tomorrow morning along with the legal documents signing Aria over to me.”

There’s a tick in his jaw I don’t miss. “Can I at least see her?”

“Of course. I will allow that. I think it’s fair you get to explain to her what’s happening. She should hear it from you.” I doubt she knows what this man is really like, whether she can remember or not. It’s time she finds out. “Do make sure she complies, won’t you? I don’t think I have to explain what will happen if she doesn’t. Do I, Raphael?”

Rage flares in his flinty gaze. Enough to tell me he’d kill me if he could. “No, Lucca. You do not.”

“Good.”

I have this motherfucker right where I want his ass.

He can see her.

Then I will.