Chapter 3- Massimo

I stare after Manni, my head guard, as he takes Emelia away. If I were finished up here, I’d take her to her room myself. Not him.

I already feel my blood boiling watching him touch her. Getting the first touch of what’s mine. The Balesteri princess.

With her obsidian-colored hair, misty gray eyes, and a body like a lost pin-up model, Emelia Balesteri has been deemed a prize in the underworld since her father showed her off at the Syndicate’s charity ball months ago.

She’s a prize I now have. A princess who was locked away in a tower governed by her father’s controlling hand. And I just moved the princess from one tower to another. The difference about this story is there will be no prince to save her. No one will come to give her freedom. She is the spoils of war, a trophy, and I won’t be mistaken for a good man and feel sorry for her.

Beautiful and innocent as she is, Emelia is a piece on the chess board and taking her from her father was only the beginning of the havoc I intend to wreak in their lives. I’m just getting fucking started with Riccardo Balesteri. The pale-blue-eyed devil who ruined my childhood.

My marriage to Emelia means when she turns twenty-one I get back what once belonged to my family. Balesteri Investments was my family’s business. It was started by my great, great, great-grandfather decades ago and called D’Agostino Investments until Riccardo stole it from my father, setting off a chain reaction that caused us to lose everything.

That’s what we want to do to his ass. Take everything he owns and leave him with nothing. Destroy the motherfucker.

When we found out about the shit he was up to I could have suggested demanding the business back, but I wanted to do more damage. That’s why I wanted his daughter, because marrying Emelia also meant Riccardo can’t make the money he hoped to by marrying her off or selling her to someone else.

Poor girl. I could tell she really had no idea who her father truly is. I’m sure she wouldn’t have begged for Riccardo’s life if she did.

I knew from the night of the ball there was no way she could know the real Riccardo Balesteri. Like most of the men in the circles we travel in, that was the first time I saw her. Riccardo led her in like an innocent lamb to the slaughter, dressed in black to declare her for sale. It was clear from the excitement on her face that she didn’t even know why she was there.

That event was what we call a Viewing, a signal to start bidding. He displayed her like a piece of meat for sale, and she’s been the talk of the underground since then.

Any compassion I could have felt toward her occurred at that moment, and it ended there.

I turn back to face Riccardo and find the fucker looking straight at me. The question in his eyes is one of shock. Under normal circumstances I’m sure a man who pulled a gun to his head would be dead before they could take their next breath. Not me, though, and the motherfucker knows exactly why I did it. And fuck me, was it ever one hell of a bitch of payback for that stunt he pulled on me at Ma’s funeral.

“It’s done,” that fucktard Bianchi says, cutting into the thick fog of silence that’s settled over the room. He applies the Balesteri family seal to the contract, closing the deal.

“Good,” Pa says, taking back the lead.

Although I can feel Riccardo’s heated gaze on me, I watch Bianchi as he gathers the contract and the other documents with our offer and starts placing them in a large manila envelope.

He’s what I call a “yes man.” An irritating, spineless piece of shit who does what he’s told. Part of the vermin who has worked for Riccardo from way back when.

I stare the asshole down and wonder if he remembers me as a boy. I’m sure he does. He’s been looking at me like he remembers me just fine.

Years ago, as he and his company of fuckers came to throw my family out of our home, I stared him down the same as I am now. Back then, he laughed at me and called me a foolish child. I was ten years old. Bianchi is not laughing now. He’s shit scared, the same as Riccardo.

Now I’m twenty-nine, and I’m about to take over my father’s empire. An empire my father built from the nothing we had.

With the handover of leadership, the repayment of Riccardo’s debts will come to me. Unlike the foolish child I was called, I’ve exacted a well-thought-out plan that’s barricaded Riccardo left, right, and center.

The leverage we hold over him will ensure he’ll screw himself and everyone with the surname Balesteri if he even breathes the wrong way.

“May I go now?” Bianchi asks and I almost laugh. He looks like he’s ready to shit himself.

Riccardo looks even worse for the fact that his beloved lawyer had to ask us permission to leave.

“You may,” Pa answers. We don’t need a lawyer for what happens next.

It’s Syndicate business, and as such will be handled between us. It will be interesting to watch.

I continue to stare at Bianchi, who hurries out of here, scurrying away like the fucking rat he is.

“Leave us,” I tell my men, and they follow. The two guards that brought Emelia here leave too, leaving the three of us in the room.

“Back to business,” Pa says with a well-earned smug smile.

“How about we head back to my office?” I state motioning through the door we came through with my gun.

Riccardo bares his teeth before he proceeds to walk. Pa and I follow behind.

I left my office door open, so we walk right inside and each take a seat. I put my gun away and give my father the head chair because this next part is all on him.

This part is what you call the true art of war—knowing when to get your enemy exactly where you want him to be and striking not at the point where he’s injured, but when you know he walks the line between life and death and only a miracle will save him. That is where Riccardo is, and the fucker knows it.

“You can’t just take my voting rights,” Riccardo says, trying to keep his tone under control. “They are what tie me to the Syndicate. What kind of member would I be without my rights to vote and make decisions?”

His voting rights are his biggest worry right now. Not Emelia. Asshole…

“That is not my concern. I want your voting rights, or the deal is off,” Pa answers, and Riccardo just stares back at him, defeated.

My father is here with me to secure the very last thing this asshole owns: his voting rights in the Syndicate, the Brotherhood. Like Riccardo, my father is one of the Syndicate members. Voting rights equal power and control. They give control and take away control. This is my father’s final act as boss. His final gift to me before he hands over the D’Agostino empire.

Our demand for Riccardo’s voting rights was the shocker we dealt just before Emelia walked in. It was why he behaved the way he did with her. Shock and desperation consumed him from the fact that we discovered his secrets. All thanks to my brother, Dominic.

Dominic found out Riccardo was stealing Syndicate money to do business with the Sequina Cartel in Ecuador. The fool took a gamble and used their money, along with virtually all of his, to traffic containers of heroine to Europe. He lost millions when it got seized by the feds and had to turn to us for help. Us, his enemies.

He came under the pretense that he needed a business loan. Pa gave it to him and had Dominic check him out when Riccardo couldn’t pay us back. It was then we discovered the truth and realized the asshole only came to us because he knew he couldn’t turn to anybody else. Maybe he thought he could prey on the lost friendship he and my father once shared.

Seeing the road to destroy him open before us, we seized the opportunity and made him an offer he’d be a fool to refuse.

The offer was this: his beloved daughter, with her inheritance and the new set of luxury apartments he bought at the start of the year, in exchange for the debt he owed Pa. In addition to that, we wanted his voting rights in exchange for our silence on his crimes to the Syndicate for breaking the creed.

“You will give it to me, or I won’t hesitate to inform the Brotherhood of your gross errors. I doubt you want that on your hands.”

Terror makes beads of sweat form on Riccardo’s upper lip. Bastardo. He’s an idiot for thinking we, of all people, will let him reason with us. He’s lucky. That’s what he is. Lucky that we only want to destroy him instead of just killing his ass. The motherfucker did the one thing you shouldn’t do in our world: underestimate. He never thought anybody would discover his secrets.

“You are loving this, aren’t you?” Riccardo sneers.

“Yes, I am,” Pa answers, short, sweet, and succinct, knowing that Riccardo doesn’t want the Syndicate on his ass. I bite back a grin as I watch a smile of victory dance across my father’s lips. Power is a beautiful thing. It’s so much better when you can taste it and feel it coursing through your veins. Unlike that day at the cemetery, Pa and I are so far from powerless, useless, or helpless.

“Giacomo, you people took my daughter,” Riccardo reminds Pa.

“And with her comes a return of what was once mine,” Pa answers, mimicking his tone. “We’re not going over this again, Riccardo.”

“It’s a serious matter.”

“Of course, but one that is no longer up for discussion,” Pa adds.

“I don’t see how you think it’s right to do this to me.”

“I don’t care what you think is right or wrong. This is the way it’s going to be. Decide now. We don’t have all fucking night. Shall I make the call now to the Brotherhood? Or will you be handing me what I want?”

Riccardo stares back, fury brimming in his eyes along with fear. The asshole truly thought he was untouchable, but everybody loses sometimes.

Apart from us, the Brotherhood of the Syndicate is made up of two other powerful Italian crime families and two Bratva families. They will not be pleased to hear how Riccardo has been benefiting from their investments for the last ten years and how much he’s stolen.

He knows they’ll kill him. They’ll deal death exactly the way he threatened at Ma’s funeral. It would start with him, then they’d kill his daughter, his family, then his friends. Everyone he knows from here and in Italia.

The Syndicate is a secret society of crime families set up to protect wealth and allow its members to flourish in more wealth. Cross them and break the creed, and it means death to all you know. There is no way out.

This selfish fucker, however, is just worried about himself. I know it. He knows we’ll kill him too, and we’d be able to without retaliation for all he’s done.

Death, however, is too good for him. He did exactly what we wanted. We wanted to watch the asshole fall and crumble. To see his face as he loses everything. It’s interesting, though. I thought his daughter might have been his one good thing, but she isn’t. Riccardo Balesteri values his money and power. The one good thing in his life was his voting rights in the Syndicate. The man makes me sick. He’s more aggrieved to lose that than selling his daughter.

“What’s it going to be, Riccardo?” Pa asks and holds out another contract to him. That one would have the same wording as the one Emelia signed. But it needs to be signed in blood.

“You bastard. You had to take everything,” Ricardo says and looks from Pa to me.

I’ve sat back and minded my place, allowing my father to talk. It’s my turn now.

“Be fucking grateful we left you with the roof over your head and the clothes on your back,” I answer, and he cuts me a sharp glance.

He won’t say anything to me. I can tell he’s still shaken from earlier. Good. Fucking good. I’ve been waiting for a long time to find a way to get him, and while I’ve seen this man several times since my mother’s funeral, I’ve held back and waited patiently for the right time to strike.

“We don’t have all night, Riccardo,” Pa states in a menacing voice.

I retrieve a pen knife from my desk drawer and hold it out to Riccardo.

Grudgingly, he takes it and looks over the contract. A smile dances on my lips when he cuts the tip of his thumb and blood drips on to the dotted line.

“There. You have it all now.” He looks at me. “You have it all.”

“I do, and you have nothing,” I answer. “It will be most interesting to see what happens next. Definitely interesting to see what happens when I marry your daughter, ruining your damn plans.”

Boy, did this bastard ever have his fair share of plans for his daughter. I can just imagine how many bids he must have gotten for her at the ball, and since then too. The minute I saw her, I knew the fucker wanted to marry her off and secure some business arrangement with a marriage.

It all made sense when we found out what he was up to with the Syndicate and the trouble he was in as a result of all the money he lost.

“You will not get away with this,” he warns. I’m amazed he has the balls to say that to me.

I lean forward and hold his gaze. “I think I already have.” I reach for the contract and hand it to Pa, who takes it gladly.

As I look at this devil before me, I think back to the day at the cemetery when I vowed vengeance. This is only the beginning.

He’s broke, has no daughter to secure any form of business marriage, no assets to sell, and Emelia’s inheritance will come to me in a few years’ time. Without his voting rights and with the dire financial situation he’s in, he’s useless as shit. That’s one sure way to get thrown out of the Syndicate.

The Syndicate is a dream you hope to happen upon. From what we’ve predicted from his losses, Riccardo won’t be able to rebuild. Once it’s clear his business is going under, he’ll be useless to them. What we want is for them to uninitiate him.

That is the ultimate goal. Riccardo isn’t stupid. He’ll know that’s what we’re gearing toward. Just like he did to Pa when we were younger. That was the start of how we lost everything and the hard life that followed. Pa was uninitiated after the Syndicate deemed him no longer useful.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a fucking tooth. Once the Syndicate kicks his ass out Riccardo will have nothing, and he’ll be nothing.

Pa clears his throat. “Pleasure doing business with you, Riccardo,” Pa says. “I will contact the Brotherhood and make them aware of what’s happening in terms of your rights. You may go now.”

Ricardo stares back knowing he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He rises to his feet and leaves.

“We should have taken his home as well,” I state as soon as the door closes.

“No, we have to leave him with a base so we can watch his next moves,” Pa answers. “Home is where the heart is, even for those with dark souls. He’ll be plotting his next moves there.”

“Yes, I imagine so,” I agree. I just wanted to truly leave him in the shit, put him on the roadside with a paper bag if I could. It still wouldn’t be enough.

“He will try things. We’ve crippled him in a big way, but don’t underestimate him.”

“I won’t.”

Pa looks at me and pride swells in his eyes. To see that in a man like him for me is a massive accomplishment. My father is the kind of man who went through hell and back. He rules with an iron fist that shows the extent of his power. I’ve seen him at his lowest, cut down like grass, and at his highest. That is where he is now. A proud mafia boss; a powerful leader in the business world and the Syndicate.

I’m honored to fill his shoes. The fact that he picked me over Andreas is an honor I will take to my grave, bad as I feel about being picked to lead the famiglia over my older brother.

“You’re ready to be boss. You acted like one today,” he says.

I dip my head in reverence at his words. “My thanks to you, Father.”

“I’ll finish the asset transfer later today in prep for the ceremony. Then there’s the Syndicate meetings. I will initiate you and spend the next few months training you. Then that will be it.”

That will be it. And I will form a new leadership with my brothers.

“Thank you.”

Pa rests his hand on my shoulder and nods. “Business discussion over. Do not keep your woman waiting.”

“No, I won’t.”

His face hardens, and I know he has no compassion when it comes to Emelia.

“Make sure she knows who is boss now. Make sure she knows who she belongs to.”

Ruthless. That’s what he wants me to be.

I have no problem with that.

I have no problem with showing Emelia Balesteri who she belongs to. My fucking cock has been hard for her since I first saw her at the stupid ball.

I’ll have no problem breaking my new toy in.