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Damn, he hadn’t been thinking about the events of the past few days correctly!He hadn’t lost everything.He had a son-in-law.A powerful one!

His breathing steadied as a wicked thought slid into his mind.A powerful son-in-law could be useful.A powerful son-in-law could crush that upstart in Wisconsin, the one nibbling at Enrico’s Minneapolis territory like a rat in the walls.

“She’s not going to spill anything about the plan.She doesn’t know enough,” Matteo said suddenly, dragging Enrico back.

Enrico blinked, then narrowed his eyes.“Know about what?”

Matteo flicked a glance toward the door, then stepped closer, lowering his voice.“The plan.The one I told you about last month.”

Enrico’s stomach dropped.His heart skipped, thudding painfully.“What plan?”he rasped.

Matteo hesitated, then blurted, “The plan,” he said again, as if emphasizing the words would spark Enrico’s memory.“You said it was smart.A way to get someone close and get info on Romano’s organization, maybe even take over the Chicago territory.You told me to go ahead.So I did.”His chest puffed with nervous pride.“It’s a great plan.If we can get enough info on the man’s inner workings, then maybe there’s some blackmail material you can use.”He straightened, ever hopeful.“With Romano’s strength under your thumb, you’d be unstoppable.”

For a moment, there was a stillness.A silence.Then Enrico’s hand cracked across Matteo’s face, the sound echoing through the office like a gunshot.

The younger man staggered, clutching his cheek.His eyes darted back, wide and panicked, as if he’d only just realized how badly he’d stepped into the fire.

“I already have power!”Enrico thundered, his lips curling in savage satisfaction.The slap had steadied him, soothed the pounding in his temples.He wanted more.He wanted Matteo to defy him so he could unleash the storm boiling inside his veins.

But Matteo, ever the coward, stayed silent.

Slowly, he straightened, his hand still pressed to the red mark blooming across his cheek.His throat worked as he forced out the words.“She knows, boss.”His voice cracked.“Catarina knows your secrets.Are you sure she won’t betray you?”

The question hung in the air like a knife.

Enrico froze.For a beat, the only sound in the room was the ragged pull of his own breath.Secrets.The word echoed through his head, louder than Matteo’s voice.His daughter had grown up in this house.She’d been around the whispers, the closed-door meetings, the stray names and half-heard threats.She might have picked up pieces—snippets about shipments, money laundering, alliances no one was supposed to know about.

Or worse.

Maybe she’d overheard the plan Matteo had bragged about last month.The one with the woman who could slip close to Romano’s inner circle.A plan Enrico had waved off at the time, but now…if Catarina had seen her, even just once, that little bitch might recognize her.Might tell Romano everything.

Enrico’s stomach clenched hard, bile rising.Catarina wasn’t just a runaway brat anymore—she was a liability.

Slowly, Matteo straightened, his hand still pressed to the red mark blooming across his cheek.His throat worked as he forced out the words.“Even if she doesn’t blab about the plan, she knows about other things, boss.”His voice cracked.“Catarina’s lived here among us for a while.She knows your secrets.Are you sure she won’t betray you?”

The question hung in the air like a knife.

Enrico froze, his breath rasping in his throat.Secrets.Except for the years when he’d sent her off to boarding school, the brat had lived in his house her whole life, slinking around corners, pretending not to listen.She’d been close enough to overhear names, details of the deals he’d negotiated, maybe she’d even caught whispers about money moved offshore, soldiers disappearing, alliances forged in blood.And Matteo—stupid bastard that he was—had been careless enough to brag about that woman, the one that was supposed to slip into Romano’s orbit.If Catarina had seen her even once…

No.Enrico gritted his teeth.That was impossible.Catarina was pretty, sure, but she was as vapid as a doll.She forgot her nail appointments every damn week, and they were always on the same day.She was completely useless for anything other than dressing up in pretty clothes.

“She can’t even keep track of her own manicure, Matteo,” Enrico scoffed, though his laugh came out too sharp, edged with nerves.“You’re giving the little bitch too much credit.”

“Am I?”Matteo asked softly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.But at the furious glare Enrico shot at him, Matteo backed down, both hands raised in surrender.“Whatever you say, boss.”

He turned and walked out of the office, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Enrico breathed in, then out again, his chest heaving.For the briefest moment, the thought lingered—that Catarina might run her mouth, that she might tell Romano something she shouldn’t.But no.He shook it off, puffing up his chest.Catarina was terrified of him.But maybe he should figure out how to get close enough to demonstrate where her loyalties should be.

Chapter 11

SpecialAgentRaffaeleMorettiof the FBI’s federal organized crime task force straightened at the words filtering through the surveillance feed.Enrico Bianchi was a stupid son of a bitch—but a dangerous one.Brutal, ambitious, and reckless.None of his soldiers were willing to testify against him; too many of them had seen firsthand what happened to anyone who crossed him.But what Raffe had just heard…hell, if Bianchi truly thought he could move against Salvatore Romano, then the bastard had lost what little sense he’d ever had.

Romano might wear the crown of a Chicago mob boss, but he wasn’t the kind of man Raffe cared to take down.The man kept drugs out of his territory, kept the crime rate under control, and even cut the legs out from under corrupt officials when they got too greedy.To Raffe’s mind, Romano was more honest than half the politicians running the city.Still a criminal, sure.But not a brutal one.

At least nothing had ever stuck to him in court.

Bianchi, though—Bianchi was different.He was merciless.Power-hungry.And apparently suicidal if he thought he could bite off a piece of Romano’s empire.Because taking a swing at Romano meant swinging at more than just Chicago.It meant provoking Luca Bernardi in Las Vegas, Max Diatras in Seattle, and Dimitri DeLuca on the East Coast, and Paulo Ruffino in Detroit.Those men weren’t just acquaintances; they were allies.A move against one would bring all of them down on Bianchi’s head.