Page 19

That was a conversation we needed to have in person.

“I'll be there in two hours.” The line clicked, and I was left with dead air.

Shit.

Standing quickly, I paced around the living room, unsure of what he would think or what he would want to do. My father ran things with a strict fist. Which should be expected considering his position. But this time it wasn't all black and white.

My father had every excuse in the book for not letting me order the hit. Remo made us money, his business was a huge part of ours. Without his hand in the game, we wouldn't have access to the containers, and our shipments wouldn't come through as smoothly as they had been.

That was until shit went down a month ago, and we lost quite a few guys.

Remo owed us, he owed us more than I think he wanted to admit. But him and my father went way back, I think that's why he didn't want to whack him right off the bat. Since I was a kid, Remo and my father were as close as brothers.

That changed years ago, when he screwed with the wrong people. Now he worked for us. It was his fault that family had to go through what it did.

And for that . . . He didn't deserve second chances.

But for me, relationships didn't matter if you weren't blood. And even that ran thin.

Maybe it was how I was raised, maybe it was how I thought our business should be run. I wanted him dead, he didn't deserve any of our time.

Friend or no friend, brother or no brother . . . It should have been dealt with the right way.

He wouldn't give me a straight answer as to why we couldn't just take him out. There had to be a good reason, there better be a good reason.

Otherwise all of this was for nothing. And when I asked my father what would happen if Remo did this to him again, and again . . . His words were cold.

'You know whose fault this is. Dante, when I'm in the ground you can do shit your way. For now, I call the shots. Don't question me, I won't tolerate it. Don't make me lose another son.'

The faint scream of Ivy from upstairs made its way down into the living room. I needed her to calm down, she had to be on her best behavior when my father got here.

Placing the glass down, I stormed up the stairs. She needed to listen to me, I had to make her listen to me.

Throwing the shattered door open, her eyes gaped wide. Curling her legs into her chest, she tried to pull herself up on the bed, but the cuffs made it impossible for her to hide.

Her pussy was exposed, glistening and hot. I had the urge to jump her, take her for myself and let the entire night melt away into the heat between her thighs.

Just seeing her that way made my cock stiff. She was helpless . . . And yet she wasn't.

Ivy had fire that ran through her veins—she was wild in the best kind of way. She wouldn't make it easy, she wouldn't let me just take her. And the idea of having to fight for what I wanted made me so hard it hurt.

Her face was still flushed, chest lifting quickly with rapid breaths. “What? Is it time to chain my mouth too?”

Damn her filthy mouth. It was music to my ears.

She wasn't begging, she wasn't throwing herself at me like all the other women who added notches to my belt.

I couldn't wait to make her beg.

“I need you to listen to me, and listen to me good.” Stepping to her side, I gripped the base of her hair and forced her to look up. “Someone's on their way here right now, and if you don't shut the fuck up, I won't be able to save you from him.”

“I told you I'm not going to beg for my life.”

“I'm not asking you to beg for your life, I'm asking you to shut up for your life.”

“I don't understand, you're going to kill me anyway, so—”

Cutting her off, I wanted her to understand what was at stake. “Do you really want to die tonight? I'll try to keep him away from you, but if he insists on seeing you then you need to behave.”