Page 50 of Twisted Devotion

We have been waiting for him in this room for almost an hour. When I told Aria this morning that she could join me for a strategy meeting, she was overjoyed—first surprised, then genuinely pleased when she realized I was serious. If this weren’t her first meeting as my wife, and if I hadn’t seen that flicker of excitement in her eyes, there’s no way in hell I’d still be here waiting.

But finally, he shows up.

I watch him saunter through the glass door, that smug look permanently plastered on his face. The moment he steps inside, the air is thick with the overpowering scent of his cologne—some heavy, cloying shit that mixes with the lingering stench of cigars and stale coffee. It’s almost suffocating.

He’s dressed in an off-white, sharp, but obnoxious suit, and his hair is slicked back with so much gel that it’s practically dripping. A bead of it slides down his temple, and he dabs it with a silk handkerchief before flashing one of his signature smirks.

Then, he takes a seat—like we weren’t just sitting here, waiting on his ass.

“Hello,” he says simply, flashing a smile. “Sorry, I’m late. I…” He hums, stroking his jaw as if in deep thought. “To be honest, I’m not sure why.”

The three of us exchange the same unimpressed look. Aria tries to mask her irritation, but from my seat at the head of the table, I see the way her small hands curl into fists.

Matteo. sitting on the same side as Marco, doesn’t bother hiding his disdain. His sharp gaze flickers with barely contained anger, and I know he’s probably fantasizing about putting a bullet between Marco’s eyes.

And honestly? I can’t blame him.

Marco always goes out of his way to be seen. To be noticed. To be heard. It’s pathetic. He doesn’t understand that a real leader commands respect through discipline and power—not bright suits and suffocating cologne.

I exhale slowly, my chair creaking faintly as I lean back. The tension in the room is thick, like it always is when Marco and I share the same air.

Aria crosses her arms, her sharp gaze flicking between us. She’s studying me, waiting to see how I’ll respond.

I lean forward, inhaling deeply before speaking. “Welcome, Marco.” Then I glance at Matteo and Aria. “Can we start the meeting now?”

Matteo looks like he wants to object, his jaw tightening, while Aria stares at me like she can’t believe I just let it go. A flicker of irritation sparks my chest. Do they really think I’m so petty that I can’t handle Marco without letting my emotions get in the way?

“Yes, boss,” Matteo replies, though his tone is clipped.

“Yes. We can,” Aria echoes, still watching me closely.

Marco doesn’t respond immediately. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and his usual smug expression is gone for once. When he finally speaks, his voice is serious. “This Caldarone mess isn’t going away.”

Good. At least he’s focused.

“Some of my men went missing while selling our products in my territory. Their bodies were found in a trash can two days ago. Large doses of our own drugs were in their system.”

Matteo doesn’t even hesitate. “And you’re sure it’s not a case of your men getting high on their own supply? Overdosing and losing their damn minds?”

Marco shoots him a glare, but for once, he doesn’t take the bait. A faint sheen of sweat forms on his forehead, betraying his nerves. “That’s not what happened,” he says sharply before turning his attention to me.

“They’ve been testing us—the ambush at your docks, the bombing of my sister’s car, and now this. The Caldarones are waiting for us to retaliate. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

“They’re not just waiting for us to retaliate,” I say, my tone flat but firm. I frown slightly, surprised at how naive Marco sounds. Does he really not see the bigger picture?

“They’re testing us,” I continue. “Hitting our shipments, our men, our family members. They’re looking for weaknesses, Marco. Watching how we react to see where it hurts the most. We'll play right into their hands if we launch a reckless, head-on attack without proper strategy. That would be fucking stupid.”

Marco’s jaw tightens, and he rolls his eyes. “So what do you suggest we do? Sit on our asses and let them keep… poking us or whatever the fuck they’re doing?”

“No, we can’t.” I exhale sharply, barely keeping my irritation in check. “But we've already been over this, haven’t we? That’s exactly why I married your sister—to consolidate our resources, to combine our strengths, and to take down a common enemy. You do remember that, don’t you?”

I tilt my head slightly, watching him.

Marco scoffs. “Uh, duh. I’m not stupid. Of course, I do.”

I see Aria close her eyes briefly, exhaling like she’s praying for patience. I share her sentiment. If Marco really wasted an hour of our time just to saywe should retaliate, I might actually lose it.

Matteo steps in before I can respond. “While we’re running our investigations, how about we do a little poking of our own, boss?”

---