Page 55 of Vicious Heir

“Why don’t you tell them?”

“Because my father wouldn’t want them to remember him like this.” Adriano looks away. “He was a proud man, and he gave me a lot. If I can protect him during his last years—” He shakes his head. “Just don’t talk about his condition with anyone else around. Only a very small number of people know how far his condition has progressed. Do you understand?”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“Good.” He moves down the steps but looks back again. “I sit with him every morning. You can come again tomorrow if you like.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Fine.” He nods and walks away.

I stare after him. My husband comes off like a ruthless killer. And that’s exactly what he is.

But he’s also a son who cares about his father and is willing to go to great lengths to protect him.

Which is beyond admirable. It’s incredible, if I’m honest with myself.

I wouldn’t do that for Grandmother.

Mostly because she’s terrible, but still.

I feel a new respect for Adriano as I head back to our room.

Chapter 19

Adriano

Istride into the offices of Willing-Morris Fund and gaze over my kingdom. The remaining traders and support staff pretend like they’re busy, and those that meet my stare give me the fakest smiles I’ve ever seen in my life.

These people fuckinghateme.

I’m everything they were born to loathe. The traders are clever men and women from impeccable breeding. It’s not enough to go to the best schools—the WM Fund only hires those with the proper names.

And I’m the barbarian they’ve struggled so hard to keep from their gates.

It’s bad enough my money comes from illicit ventures. I deal in products: cocaine, heroin, weed, gambling, protection rackets. But it’s not the morality they despise.

It’s the crass capitalism.

These people think they float above it. They create their financial speculative assets and act as though their hands are clean. Theyinvest, chase an edge against the market, and go home to sleep in their overpriced beds with their overpriced spouses and their overpriced brats. And because they’re not out on the streets with the common man, they think they’re better than everyone else.

But now they’re forced to deal with me.

And they fucking hate it.

“Good morning, traders,” I say, beaming wide now. I can’t help myself. “Are we going to have a good day?”

“Absolutely, sir,” one of the more ass-kissing traders pipes up for the whole office. “We’ll chase the alpha like always.”

I make a mental note to fire that guy.

“Good. Get to work.” I turn away and head toward my office. Formerly Pierre’s office. He’s now shoved in a smaller room down the hall from me, which clearly kills him, but he can’t do a damn thing about it.

“Good morning, Mr. Marino. Your morning meeting is waiting.” My secretary is a young woman named Jessie. She was working at one of my clubs until I brought her over. She’s blonde with lots of tattoos and big fake tits, the exact kind of woman who would never get a job in a place like this. I encourage her to show off her intricately inked sleeve, if only to make the stuffy assholes on the trading floor scowl.

Despite the way she looks, Jessie’s smart and organized, and I trust her more than any of the vipers in this place.

“How long has she been in there?” We pause outside my office. The blinds are drawn, and I can’t see inside.

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