Esposito — Twelve Hours Earlier
Frustrated rage clings to me.
Ricco Conti… the snake. My enemy.
He had struck at us more than once. Today, I finally had him in my hands.
And I had to let him go.
For a man like me—one who demands retribution for anyone who wrongs the Rossi mafia—this pushes my control to the brink. I value calm and discipline, so I do my damnedest to maintain both, drawing in a deep breath to ease the storm of fury raging inside me.
My phone dings with a text from my cousin, Vittoria.
On the plane.
The effect is instantaneous.
Those three words replace my rage with sharp excitement, though my expression remains unreadable to those around me. Other than Vittoria and my head bodyguard—and closest friend—Gabrielle Ricci, or Gabe, no one knows what's happening. And no one outside them can know about the plans I've set into motion.
Did the princess give you any trouble?
The three dots appear, dancing on my screen as Vittoria types. I watch, waiting. When her reply finally comes, it's shorter than I expected, and my brow furrows.
No.
My index finger taps the screen, the Don's ring my Papà gave me when I took over our family's criminal empire gleaming under the light.
Vittoria had agreed to the plan—to befriend my enemy's daughter while she vacationed in the Lake Como region of Italy, then help me kidnap the spoiled little princess.
But something changed once Vittoria actually met her.
She hasn't said it outright, but I can feel it.
Don't tell me the snake's spawn has fooled you.
The princess is a viper, just like her father. Remember that.
Camille Conti may look soft and innocent, with doe-like eyes and a delicate smile, but nothing born from Ricco Conti's loins could be good—or redeemable.
If she's managed to fool Vittoria—who is sly and cunning herself—in just a few days, then the princess is far more like her father than I initially believed.
My phone dings again.
You're a dick.
I frown at the message. This is why I hate communicating by text—you can never be sure of tone.
Is Vittoria being sarcastic?
Or is she genuinely pissed at me?
Calm and control define my leadership. They are innately who I am, but they were also carefully instilled in me by my father as he groomed me for this role. A leader must remain level-headed. Chaos and mayhem are more my brother Vito's way of doing things.
I'm rarely reactive. I pride myself on restraint. And to avoid missteps, I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with.
Once the Conti princess arrives, she'll be enough to handle—fangs bared and fight blazing is what I expect. I don't need my feisty cousin complicating things.
I call Vittoria, hoping to get a better read on her and the situation, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I text her, asking her to call me, but the message doesn't show as delivered. She must have turned her phone off for the flight.
I check my watch.
They'll arrive in San Francisco early tomorrow morning. I still have preparations to make.
Excitement creeps back, licking up my spine at the thought of the pampered, spoiled princess hurtling toward her captivity—toward being under my control.
But more than that, the thrill comes from striking at my enemy.
I've just removed Ricco Conti's biggest chess piece from the board.
Conti had dangled his daughter—and her precious, protected virginity—to secure a deal with the French mafia he's been coveting. I don't care why he wants that alliance or the marriage that would merge their families.
I care that I destroyed it.
Camille Conti will disappear from the mafia world. Most will believe the evidence that makes it appear she ran away. Others—Ricco Conti himself, and my fellow Dons of the 'Ndrangheta—will suspect I'm responsible, retaliating because the families voted to stay my hand today.
They won't find proof.
By the rules of our world, Ricco Conti is mine to kill. Yet the collective voted for him to live—all because of money.
The margin was slim.
And I plan to change their minds at our next face-to-face meeting.
Rage surges again as I think of all Conti has done to my family. His suspected involvement in the threat against my brother Creed's wife, Sophie. The confirmed treachery with the Chamber that nearly shattered the alliance and peace between families—an act that would have marked us for destruction.
And above all, his involvement in human trafficking.
He admitted to attempting to establish a site on the West Coast—on Rossi territory—for one of the most depraved rings I've ever encountered. Forced combat. Sex slavery.
Today, he was in my hands.
At my mercy.
And I had to let him go.
That is the maddening part. I value control. I believe in an eye for a fucking eye.
And today, I got neither.
At least the bastard went home in a pine box—temporarily.
I smirk, imagining Ricco Conti stuffed inside it, hands bound behind his back as he was flown back to Boston. Left on the tarmac. Discovered later—disheveled, terrified, and, if there's any justice in this world, soaked in his own piss and shit.
Yes, the snake still breathes.
But I've struck back.
I'll dismantle him piece by piece, covertly, until the day I look him in the eye and rip his throat out with a smile.
Until then…
I'll keep his precious, virginal princess.
My perfect revenge.
Esposito — Twelve Hours Earlier
Frustrated rage clings to me.
Ricco Conti… the snake. My enemy.
He had struck at us more than once. Today, I finally had him in my hands.
And I had to let him go.
For a man like me—one who demands retribution for anyone who wrongs the Rossi mafia—this pushes my control to the brink. I value calm and discipline, so I do my damnedest to maintain both, drawing in a deep breath to ease the storm of fury raging inside me.
My phone dings with a text from my cousin, Vittoria.
On the plane.
The effect is instantaneous.
Those three words replace my rage with sharp excitement, though my expression remains unreadable to those around me. Other than Vittoria and my head bodyguard—and closest friend—Gabrielle Ricci, or Gabe, no one knows what's happening. And no one outside them can know about the plans I've set into motion.
Did the princess give you any trouble?
The three dots appear, dancing on my screen as Vittoria types. I watch, waiting. When her reply finally comes, it's shorter than I expected, and my brow furrows.
No.
My index finger taps the screen, the Don's ring my Papà gave me when I took over our family's criminal empire gleaming under the light.
Vittoria had agreed to the plan—to befriend my enemy's daughter while she vacationed in the Lake Como region of Italy, then help me kidnap the spoiled little princess.
But something changed once Vittoria actually met her.
She hasn't said it outright, but I can feel it.
Don't tell me the snake's spawn has fooled you.
The princess is a viper, just like her father. Remember that.
Camille Conti may look soft and innocent, with doe-like eyes and a delicate smile, but nothing born from Ricco Conti's loins could be good—or redeemable.
If she's managed to fool Vittoria—who is sly and cunning herself—in just a few days, then the princess is far more like her father than I initially believed.
My phone dings again.
You're a dick.
I frown at the message. This is why I hate communicating by text—you can never be sure of tone.
Is Vittoria being sarcastic?
Or is she genuinely pissed at me?
Calm and control define my leadership. They are innately who I am, but they were also carefully instilled in me by my father as he groomed me for this role. A leader must remain level-headed. Chaos and mayhem are more my brother Vito's way of doing things.
I'm rarely reactive. I pride myself on restraint. And to avoid missteps, I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with.
Once the Conti princess arrives, she'll be enough to handle—fangs bared and fight blazing is what I expect. I don't need my feisty cousin complicating things.
I call Vittoria, hoping to get a better read on her and the situation, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I text her, asking her to call me, but the message doesn't show as delivered. She must have turned her phone off for the flight.
I check my watch.
They'll arrive in San Francisco early tomorrow morning. I still have preparations to make.
Excitement creeps back, licking up my spine at the thought of the pampered, spoiled princess hurtling toward her captivity—toward being under my control.
But more than that, the thrill comes from striking at my enemy.
I've just removed Ricco Conti's biggest chess piece from the board.
Conti had dangled his daughter—and her precious, protected virginity—to secure a deal with the French mafia he's been coveting. I don't care why he wants that alliance or the marriage that would merge their families.
I care that I destroyed it.
Camille Conti will disappear from the mafia world. Most will believe the evidence that makes it appear she ran away. Others—Ricco Conti himself, and my fellow Dons of the 'Ndrangheta—will suspect I'm responsible, retaliating because the families voted to stay my hand today.
They won't find proof.
By the rules of our world, Ricco Conti is mine to kill. Yet the collective voted for him to live—all because of money.
The margin was slim.
And I plan to change their minds at our next face-to-face meeting.
Rage surges again as I think of all Conti has done to my family. His suspected involvement in the threat against my brother Creed's wife, Sophie. The confirmed treachery with the Chamber that nearly shattered the alliance and peace between families—an act that would have marked us for destruction.
And above all, his involvement in human trafficking.
He admitted to attempting to establish a site on the West Coast—on Rossi territory—for one of the most depraved rings I've ever encountered. Forced combat. Sex slavery.
Today, he was in my hands.
At my mercy.
And I had to let him go.
That is the maddening part. I value control. I believe in an eye for a fucking eye.
And today, I got neither.
At least the bastard went home in a pine box—temporarily.
I smirk, imagining Ricco Conti stuffed inside it, hands bound behind his back as he was flown back to Boston. Left on the tarmac. Discovered later—disheveled, terrified, and, if there's any justice in this world, soaked in his own piss and shit.
Yes, the snake still breathes.
But I've struck back.
I'll dismantle him piece by piece, covertly, until the day I look him in the eye and rip his throat out with a smile.
Until then…
I'll keep his precious, virginal princess.
My perfect revenge.