Page 82 of I Would Beg For You

I smile some more. “Is he?”

Silence stretches for a long moment, and little by little, his expression starts to decompose.

“Just give me the money,” he begs. “I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

I stare at him for a few seconds. Interesting. He’s not begging for his life but asking for something else entirely. Has he got balls, or did someone tell him he needn’t fear me? I’ll play his game for now.

“The money Joel Smith promised your father?”

He gulps. “My family. We need it.”

I can hear the need in his tone, the utter desperation regarding what will befall his own should this amount not materialize. Reeves looked into it—they’ll be destitute if Dominic Billings doesn’t uphold his debts. However, no one would be able to touch the fortune from his wife’s side. They’d still have a chalet in Chamouny, a vacation home on Grand Cayman Island, a pied à terre in the Hamptons, and a penthouse in Manhattan’s Upper East Side as well as her trust fund money which would still leave them multi-millionaires.

Every note of despair in his voice and in his begging, eyes hardens something in my chest. He was ready to rape and browbeat an innocent woman to achieve his aim. All for what? Not losing face in front of their high society so-called friends.

My mouth curls with disgust as I look at his sniveling form. He’s now crying unashamedly, snot falling from his nose. If he’d been unbound, he would’ve fallen onto his knees to beg. How pathetic.

If all he’d done was align himself with a dirty bastard like Joel Smith, I could’ve let this pass. But he dared approach Naomi, and for this, I can’t let him live.

“You shouldn’t have touched her,” I tell him quietly.

The crying stops, as abruptly as it started, and he’s peering at me with a snarl.

“Bitch was all but asking for it. All ice-queen and like she’s too perfect for the rest of us.”

My blood starts to boil, a dull throbbing picking up at my temples. In my mind, I’ve already seen myself reaching for mygun and blasting off a full magazine into this waste of space’s body. Yet, this hasn’t happened. I exchange a glance with Marco. He shakes his head softly, and suddenly, it dawns on me.

This is a moment that will make or break me. Not just as a man, but as a boss. No one will blink an eye upon hearing I blew the brains of the man who dared touch my woman. It’s expected. Accepted, and respected, even. I could do it and still come out on top.

Except, I also have another choice. Not to let that figlio di puttana live, no. Heisgoing to die, but not like this. Not by my hand.

Since my father died, everyone has been waiting with bated breath to see what I’d do, how I’d pick up the reins. I knew I had to step up, but a part of me had still been wary. What if I don’t live up to his reputation? What if I botch his legacy?

I have to protect Naomi—there’s no question about this. I also have to disable Joel Smith while I’m at it, because none of us want another RICO landing on our asses in a few years’ time. But most importantly, I need to be Marcello Andretti’s son and worthy heir right now.

Any situation can be used to extract an advantage, my father used to say. One just had to know how to look at it, find the specific angle that will tilt everything into a positive light, and then act on it.

Looking at Thad Billings across from me, I sneak in a deep breath and, in my mind, step into the shoes my padre left vacant for me. The time has come to make my move, to show the rest of the checkerboard how I’ll arrange my piece…and how they’ll all have to align their pieces to me or get off the board entirely.

Plus, it’ll show this piece of scum he really should have feared me.

“You shouldn’t have touched her,” I say softly, peering into his face.

I step away, and give Marco a chin nod toward the crew. He whistles, and they all troop in.

“Make sure he doesn’t die,” I tell my capo.

“Yes, boss.”

I turn on my heel then, and Marco takes this as the cue to sidestep me and head to the car.

“Wait!” Billings starts.

The crunch of a fist hitting his jaw silences him.

I step away, already pulling my phone out. Once inside the Levante and with the door closed, I look for a number I never thought I’d be calling and tap it.

“Da?”

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