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A thin smile spread over my face, head turning down in his direction. “Open the door, Del, or I'll open it for you.”

“He can't see you right now . . .” Bumbling over his words, he scratched his nappy black hair. Tapping my leg, I waited for him to finish his sentence properly. “Sir.” His face trembled, knuckles turning white against the door.

If I was a nicer guy I might feel bad about making him so nervous. But I wasn't, so I didn't care. I fed off it, letting it consume what was left of my soul to make me grow larger.

I would always be a bad man. It's who I was, it captured my name in lights and left dead men in my wake.

“Don't make me tell you again, Del.” Puffing my chest, I straightened my back. “Open the door.”

His eyes circled my body, hand still holding firmly in place.

Alright . . . We're doing this my way then.

Del started to answer, but I didn't give him any time to finish even the first letter of whatever the hell he was about to say.

I knew he was just trying to do what he was told. But it was me he was talking to, not some lower level scum who took orders like the local street walkers took dick.

Grabbing the edge of the door, I shoved it open and walked right through Del. His small body jerked to the side, trying to get out of my way.

He wasn't fast enough. His feet twisted together as my shoulder connected with the side of his face. I wasn't normally so intense with my arrival. Under normal circumstances I might have given him the extra time.

But not today.

Keeping my head straight, I walked to Remo's office and almost walked right through the door. Throwing the door open, I stood in the entryway, eyes firmly set on Remo.

Snapping his head in my direction, he looked stunned. “Dante . . . Wh—what are you doing here? This isn't a delivery week.”

Taking a second to scan the place, the two men I had seen outside were sitting in front of Remo, both intently holding a piece of paper and a pen.

“Hello, gentleman. Time for you to leave.” Pressing my back against the door, I fanned my arm out. “Please don't make me ask again.”

Standing quickly, Remo's hands came down hard on his desk. “No.” He spoke to the men, then let his eyes drift up to mine. “Dante, you're out of line here. This is my place, I run it from inside these walls.”

Cocking my head, I smiled. “Is that right?” Stepping in, I let the door swing shut on its own. The handle clanked into place, echoing against the empty walls. Walking behind the two men still seated at Remo's desk, I leaned down over the greasy haired man's shoulder. “What are you fellas reading? Is it interesting?” Plucking the paper out of the man's fingers in one quick snap, I held it up.

Holding my jaw, I nodded as I read the contract. “Hm . . . No kidding,” I said under my breath with a sarcastic smile. Continuing my walk to the side of the desk, I read the last lines out loud. “‘The business conducted behind these walls is confidential. At no point should it be discussed, repeated, or written down to any party that is not part of this establishment.’ Is this what I think it is?”

“Dante, this has nothing to do with you or your family. These men are an outside hire for my own personal business.” Waving his hand in the air, his fingers danced with each word.

I hated that about him. The way he used his hands constantly in conversation to say what his mouth was already spewing. It irked me, and I wasn't sure why.

It was just one of those things you notice and single out about someone who you hate. I could name off everything I hated about Remo, but nothing went up my ass more than knowing what he had done to Ivy.

To my Ivy.

“That's where you're wrong, Remo. Personal business is conducted at home, not here. Here, in this building, it becomes my business.” Crumpling the paper in my hand, I dropped it into the trashcan beside his desk. “No one gets hired without our permission. You know that's the rule, and you just broke it.”

“It's not what you think, I need these men for something else. It doesn't involve you or your family.”

“I think it does.” Arching a brow, I veered my stare. “I think it does.”

Remo's lips puckered like an old asshole. Crinkling in at the corners, the edges drooped down and sagged over each other. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Turning to the two men, I nodded my head towards the door. “Out, I need to talk to him in private.”

They both looked between each other, turning up to look at Remo. Tilting my head, I spoke clear and firm. “You don't need to look for his permission. Out.”

The guy on the right had a short buzz cut, his face holding a faded scar across his jaw. “Remo, want us to take care of this guy? I will, free of—”