LORENZO
I blew out smoke gently from my lips and crushed the burning cigar beneath my leather shoes.
I wished I could be as cold hearted as my papà, Zach Vellani, and shoot at whatever the fuck I hated but that was impossible.
Actually, I was. But no one knew that. It was my little secret.
I killed men and buried them clean.
No trace.
Nothing to track it back to me.
Truthfully, I was worse than my papà. It would be an anomaly to be anything less.
My papà—the only man who didn't fail to remind me how much of a mistake I was—just crossed the fucking line by asking me to apologize to Cassian Moretti.
I could shoot my papà in his sleep and stage it to be an attack for asking me to apologize to the Moretti heir.
But I wouldn't.
I knew Zach Vellani was trying to establish control over our failing business and exploit the Morettis'.
But those bloody bastards could never be exploited.
In my opinion, they were the grim reapers of this city.
The luxury houses they owned and sold.
The legal businesses they fronted.
The profits they made in a year. Damn.
No single shit moved in or out of this city without their notice or approval.
Infact, they owned London.
Zach Vellani, my father, had a fondness for comparing me with the Moretti heir since I pissed in my pants during my first shooting lesson at seven.
And it was after that I bumped into my mammà being fucked by one of my father's men.
I never told him.
But I was going to demand reprisal in due time.
That was the chronicle of my life.
Violence. War. Theatrics. Comparison. Alliances.
And so Zach Vellani's goal had been to mold Karen, my half-sister into his tool for alliance with the Morettis'.
So you see, as much as I admired that aashole,Cassian Moretti, I hated him just as much for making my life a living hell just by existing and being himself: a fucking cold-hearted bastard who had more blood on his hands than the worst criminals in Lake Como and Shales Haven prison.
I made my way to his office to tender an apology for 'allegedly insulting him'.
The urge to drink almost choked me.
I felt something collide into me.
My gaze dropped down as she stepped back, muttered a sorry that was anything but sorry and disappeared through the elevator.
I registered her face. I'd get back to it.
It didn't take long for the apology to get over with. I figured somehow, Cassian Moretti didn't give a shit about me.
And the feeling was mutual.
And when I'd mentioned the girl—of course I had to, I found her on his property—I'd heard the silent warning in Nico's voice and something dark flicker across Cassian's face.
They weren't having a threesome, were they?
_____—---°°—---______
I'd tracked her down the next day and followed her to the tiny coffee shop she worked.
And I'd made my appearance only to be turned down by her.
I should get her fucked and then kill her but that wouldn't do.
Something about her scratched a sore part of my chest.
She looked like my mammà.
I know that was stupid and right now I was one of those idiotic male characters Karen watched and blushed over on telenovela.
But I waited in the car for her.
Zach Vellani's package he'd asked me to pick up was seated in the backseat.
But there was only one thing my mind was focused on.
Ayla Thorne, of course.
And as if aligning with my thoughts, she ran past the car towards the bus shelter.
I watched her. Watched her fucking wet.
She was beautiful. Like a character pulled out of one of the books I'd read because Karen bought things she never liked.
I drove forward.
And just as I'd expected. She acted like I was a bloody pest she wished she could crush.
She was different.
I'd never made an effort to get a girl. Women always loved me, but Ayla— the cold stare she threw in my direction even as I stood under the rain, somehow dug under my skin.
Frustration clawed at my chest and it took more than an hour! More than an hour to get her into my own damn car.
I dropped her home before returning to the Vellani estate.
I just wanted to do right by her.
Maybe till I figured out why she looked like my mammà.
….____—--^^----____
The sound of a bullet rolled out from Zach Vellani's study the moment I walked through the front door.
Karen was downstairs, face pale as shit.
Bang.
Another bullet sound rang out, followed by the deep groaning of a man.
Zach Vellani never killed in his study unless he was pissed, which was rare.
"You're wet!" Karen said, her knees propped up.
"That's obvious. Who's he mad at?" I said, eye pointing to the study.
"You." She said, her lips tight. "You were supposed to bring the package home immediately, remember?"
I sighed, an aloof countenance warming my face.
"Dante Moretti' s a bit pissed at papà, and now papà's mad at you."
I gave a nonchalant shrug. "Who's he shooting at?"
Before she had time to answer, the door to Papa's study opened, Italian curses rolled off his lips the moment he spotted me.
"Where is it?!" He roared coming down,
I let the envelope drop to the floor. "There." I rolled my eyes lazily, and something dark filled my spine..
At this moment, I knew I could kill him if he laid a finger on me.
He stopped. The darkness in his eyes mirrored the darkness in my heart.
"Son of a bitch." He slurred, releasing a finger from the trigger. "You're a fucking waste like your mamma!"
The urge to shoot his fucking brains out till it splattered across the hallway forced a smug smile on my face.
"Karena pick up the package!" Papà ordered, his gaze not wavering from mine.
Karen did, placing it into his shaky hand.
I knew he mentally had a bullet hole drilled into my skull. I could feel the intensity of his hate and it fueled my boldness.
He turned and stormed off.
"What has gotten into you?" Karen's cold hands grabbed mine. "What were you thinking standing up to him?"
"What I should have done a long time ago when that bastard pulled a trigger into your mammà's heart." I deadpanned.
"Enzo!" Karen cried.
"Go to bed, Karen. You need a clear head tomorrow." I said, and disappeared through the stairs.