Page 28 of Vows of Blood

Good boy.

"Luca?"

He waits, hand on the handle, but doesn't turn around.

"Go to hell."

9

LUCA

The gates swing open before I reach them, the guard in the booth watching my approach on the cameras. He sees my car and knows better than to make me wait on a night like this.

The drive is long and winding, lined with trees that cost an obscene amount to import and plant, and landscape lighting picks out the impressive stone façade of the three-story house as I pull up. Normally, seeing my home—the one I paid for with my own money and not my father's—gives me immense pride.

Not tonight. Tonight, all I can think about is finding whoever did this and making them regret it.

Feeling more than a little pissed off, I leave the keys in the ignition when I climb out, knowing my guards at the front entrance will move the car to the garage. Like a well-oiled machine, they know what needs to be done before I ask.

Nico is waiting in the foyer, still in the suit he wore to the party, though his tie is gone, and his chin is shadowed with stubble.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Still sedated," he says, expression grim.

I don't slow my stride, moving past him toward the east wing.

"They're saying the next twenty-four hours are critical."

He falls into step beside me, our footsteps echoing off the pale floors. The house is silent around us, lights dimmed, staff making themselves scarce. Bad news travels fast. They’ll know we don’t want to be disturbed.

My office is at the end of the hall, the one room I actually chose myself, where the rest of the house was decorated by a designer I met once and never saw again. This space is all dark wood paneling, leather furniture worn soft from use, and shelves lined with the books I've actually read and loved.

I head straight for the side table where a crystal decanter of whiskey catches the low light. Under a silver dome, some food’s been left for me by the ever-attentive Carmella, but I don’t have the stomach for it right now.

Instead, I pour two generous fingers of whiskey into a tumbler before loosening my tie and dragging it over my head. The top button of my shirt follows, then my cuffs, which I roll methodically to my elbows, as Nico closes the door.

"Have you checked in with everyone?" I ask, crossing to the wall of monitors that display feeds from cameras positioned throughout, not just this property, but key businesses and assets I own across the city. All appears quiet.

“No signs of any other trouble.” Nico settles into one of the leather chairs facing my desk and crosses his long legs at the ankles. "Father's detail has been doubled. The men rotating through the hospital to protect Kate are armed and briefed. We’ve got someone on every entrance."

Good.

I take another long sip of the whiskey, letting the burn slide down my throat as I scan the feeds. The clubs and the casinos. The warehouses. The hotels. Nothing stands out.

"What about the shipment next week?" My mind is distracted, but this is one of the joys of being the boss. No matter what else is going on, you still have to take care of business.

"I've asked Corso to revisit the logistics and security arrangements. He's wondering if we should delay until we know more about what we're dealing with."

Lifting the glass to my lips once more, I pretend to consider the suggestion, but I already know what we should do.

"No." I turn from the monitors to face him. "Business as usual, albeit on high alert. We don't flinch."

Nico's face suggests he disagrees, but instead of arguing, he looks for a concession. "Then we double the escort and add a decoy vehicle just in case."

I nod. "Fine. Do it."

As Nico pulls out his phone to relay my orders, I sink into my chair, the leather creaking beneath me as I lean back, legs outstretched. Outside, the sky is brightening, with the faint orange glow of dawn teasing the horizon.