Page 39 of Blood Heir

I stood from my chair, smoothing my jacket as I buttoned it closed. My voice was flat. “We’ll pick her up on the way.”

Cassian followed me silently as we left the study. The guards outside straightened when they saw us.

That’s when I saw him.

The guard.

On his knees near the sidewall, flanked by two of my enforcers, he was already trembling and pleading for his miserable life. His lip bled from where one of my men had shut him up.

“Please, Capo! I didn’t know she was yours! I swear it, Capo, I didn’t know!”

I walked up to him slowly. Calm. My shoes stopped inches from his bowed head. He shook like a leaf, his breathing shallow.

I crouched to his level, my face inches from his. I smiled.

“That’s your only saving grace,” I whispered. “You didn’t know.”

He whimpered, nodding furiously. “Grazie, Capo. Please—”

I turned my head to Cassian, who stood behind me, hands clasped, waiting. “Make sure he gets his wages. A plane ticket. And make sure he never breathes Melbourne’s air again.”

Cassian nodded once, stone-faced.

I turned back to the guard, my voice softer than before—dangerously so. “If I ever see your face again….” I smiled wider, my tone almost friendly. “I’ll rip your teeth from your mouth one by one and feed them back to you.”

The man swallowed hard, his face pale as ash. “Yes, Capo. Yes. Thank you, Capo.”

I rose to my full height, adjusting my cufflinks.

The car hums quietly as we drive, but my attention never leaves her. She stares out the window, into nothing, her profile calm but distant.

I study her in silence.

The old Fioretta wouldn’t have done any of this. She would’ve sat beside me quietly, her back straight, her voice measured. Always graceful, always composed—far too polite even when others deserved her wrath. She was never weak—no, never—but when it came to personal battles, she yielded. Shelet things pass. Smiled when it stung. Bit her tongue instead of spitting venom.

This woman beside me now? She doesn’t hold back. She takes what she wants. Demands, pushes, claws if she must. And God help me, she terrifies me just enough to make my chest tighten in ways I can’t fully explain.

She makes me feel alive.

^^^^

The car slows, pulling into Vittoria’s estate.

The iron gates creak open, revealing manicured gardens that frame the old mansion like polished armor. Cassian steps out first, scanning as usual. Ever the shadow.

I follow, adjusting my suit jacket as my shoes meet the stone driveway.

Fioretta steps out after me, pulling off her scarf but keeping the sunglasses. A silent little act of rebellion. Her chin lifts, her mouth twitching upward slightly. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Two guards approach. Formal, rigid. They nod and lead us toward the main doors. Fioretta and I walk ahead while Cassian trails behind like the second set of eyes I know I’ll need.

Inside, everything smells like old money. Polished wood, oil paintings, and the faint trace of expensive perfume.

Vittoria appears.

She steps forward from the hall like a queen descending from her throne. Chubby, dignified, every inch of her polished to perfection. Her dark silk blouse clings as if it were tailored just for this meeting. Sixty-something, but still carrying the beauty of her youth beneath the weight of power.

Her sharp eyes land on me first. She completely ignores Fioretta.

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