Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“Then I don’t see a problem. I appreciate your concern, but I need your full focus on the casinos. Leave any objections about our arms supplier to me and Salvo to figure out.” I turn to the underboss. “Do we have anyone on the inside with the Albanian group?”

“Two soldiers,” he confirms. “But they are not high enough on the food chain to be privy to that kind of information. If it was Dushku, he would have kept it on a need-to-know basis.” Salvo says. “But, I’ll send someone to New York again. On the off chance it was Ajello, we must be completely sure.”

I shake my head. “No. Ajello has been keeping his word and staying out of our business. Let’s keep it that way and focus on the Albanians for now. Unless someone here has another idea?”

There are some muted mutterings, but no one offers up other suggestions. As expected.

For over three years, I’ve been following Massimo’s guidance and minimizing any potential conflicts between our Family and our partners, as well as with our competitors. I can handle the business aspect of the Family, but I won’t be able to manage a Mafia war with another criminal organization. Cosa Nostra is strictly patriarchal. Getting capos to follow a woman’s directives is difficult, but as long as those orders bring in a lot of money, it’s doable. But if the war does break out, the capos will never allow me to make the necessary decisions. I know Massimo will handle any potential conflict once he gets out, andbased on what he has hinted, it’s going to be a shitstorm. I just need to weather the next six months until then.

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s go over today’s business agenda.” I turn toward Brio. “I need the casino revenue details from last week.”

He starts spilling the numbers, beginning with our largest casino, and I school my features to show nothing but calmness, while panic swarms deep within my guts. I’ve spent the whole night sitting next to Lucia, watching my sister and daughter as they slept and wondering how I’m going to keep my family safe.

Ernesto had the window in my living room upstairs replaced first thing this morning and has already contacted the alarm company. The system will be upgraded later today. Three of the six men who were on guard duty last night were killed, so I instructed him to assign at least eight to each security shift from now on. Will that be enough?

The idea of running away once again forms in my head. Dare I risk it? With me out of the picture, whoever wants me dead could simply take over, leaving me alone. Or will they send hitmen after me again? Dear God, what am I going to do?

Brio has finished rumbling about the revenues at the casinos, and Tiziano has taken over, giving updates on business at our strip clubs. The anxiety plaguing me doesn’t subside. I take a deep breath and squeeze my hands into fists, trying to relax. My throat feels like it’s being throttled, as if someone is trying to suffocate me. Years of pretending to be someone I’m not, of doing countless horrible things just so these men would treat me as an equal, are crushing me to the core. I’m tired of inflicting fear on others only to keep them from realizing how utterly terrified—all the damn time—I actually am. They are predators—the moment they smell fear, I’m dead. How muchlonger can I keep this up before I crack? As I watch the grim faces of the men seated around the table, a silent scream builds in my chest, clawing at my insides, fighting to be let out. I can’t do this anymore!

The mahogany double doors on the other side of the conference room open, and a man steps inside.

My heart stops its incessant thunderous beating in my chest.

For a fleeting moment, a stillness settles as all present gape at the newcomer, but then, everyone leaps out of their seats, reaching for their weapons.

“Sit down,” I order. “And put away the guns.”

It amazes me how strong and controlled my voice sounds, considering the upheaval that exploded inside my mind the moment my eyes landed on my demon standing at the threshold. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, and even though the rest of the men here are in similar attire, he, in a way, seems more refined. Silver eyes meet mine and then shift over the men returning to their chairs, assessing them somehow.

“Who the fuck is this?” Ernesto barks from his spot at the end of the table, which happens to be closest to the door. “And how did he get through the gate without me being informed?”

My demon’s gaze travels back to mine while he takes a step forward, coming to a stop just next to Ernesto.

“Your head of security?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“My condolences, cub.”

The swipe of his hand is nothing but a blur. A great red arc of blood sprays the table and the faces of the men seated around it, and some of the droplets end up on my hands. Nobody moves,everyone too shocked by the sight of Ernesto’s body slumped in his chair, his throat gaping open, while a river of crimson flows down his chest.

The thing about Cosa Nostra’s higher-ups is that they don’t often witness people being slaughtered before their eyes. Unless there’s a situation that demands personal retaliation, typically, it’s the soldiers who handle all the dirty work.

Salvo is the first to come to his senses and reaches inside his jacket, going for his gun again. I grab the underboss’s wrist and shake my head.

“I guess I should introduce myself,” my demon says as he grabs Ernesto’s corpse by the scruff of the jacket. He tosses the body to the right where it hits the wall with a loud thump and crashes to the floor. His eyes don’t deviate from mine even for a second while he casually takes a seat on the now-empty chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m Kai Mazur. Mrs. Leone’s new chief of security.”

Angry murmurs quickly turn into yells, deafening in the room, as the men all speak at the same time, demanding to know why they were not informed about the change or how someone from outside the Family was allowed to take over Ernesto’s position. I tune them out, their voices nothing but white noise, and focus on the man seated directly across from me at the other end of the long table. He stares back, his jaw clenched tightly and eyes slightly narrowed. It reminds me of how he looked at me all those years ago, the night we first met.

The tumultuous state I’ve been in since the start of this meeting feels like a minor discomfort compared to the storm brewing inside me now. Too many things are hitting me at once. I’ve finally learned his name. And apparently, he’s planning to stay.

I want to kiss him. And hit him. And send him to hell—all at the same time.

I take a deep breath and shout, “Everyone, shut the fuck up!”

The silence lasts for only a few seconds, then the yelling match resumes.

“This is outrageous!” Brio roars.