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Chapter 3

The engine of my black Porsche Carrera GT roared as I wheeled around the corner on a darkened, narrow road just north of New York City. I was headed to my father’s house since I’d been summoned , which irked the fuck out of me.

I absolutely hated my father, Luca Cappitani. The man was disgusting, but he was also very powerful, the underboss of one of the most powerful crime families in the city. So when he said to come to his house, I dutifully—though reluctantly—complied.

“Identification, please,” the guard demanded when I wheeled up to the gate outside my father’s estate.

“For fuck’s sake, Cesare. This is my father’s house,” I complained, though I reached into my back pocket for my wallet anyway, flopping it open to reveal my driver’s license. “And you just saw me here a few weeks ago.”

“I do as I’m told,” he said, inspecting my license like I was a goddamn criminal here to rob the place, his eyes darting from the card to me several times before nodding his approval. “Have a nice day, Mr. Cappitani.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, squealing my tires as I peeled out up the curved, concrete driveway. At the top of the hill sat my father’s home, or the Pervert Palace, as I liked to call it. But never to his face, of course. I enjoyed having my head attached to my body.

Wheeling up in front of the mansion, I parked and slid smoothly out of the sleek vehicle before climbing the stairs to the porch. At my knock, the door swung open, and Sebastian, my father’s butler, gave me a tight smile.

“Master Damiano. Your father is waiting for you in his study,” he intoned formally.

“Thanks, Sebby,” I said, knowing the nickname annoyed him but not giving a ripe shit. Crossing the fancy gold marble floor of the foyer, I hung a right to take the dim hallway that ended in a set of wooden double doors. As soon as I lifted my fist to knock, my father yelled at me to come in, and I glanced up to see a camera above the door.

Well, that’s new . The fucker got more and more paranoid by the day, especially since he would be taking over as Don of the family once my great-uncle Leo retired or died. I wouldn’t put it past my father to have his uncle taken out. He was a power-seeking, ruthless bastard.

I actually liked Uncle Leo. Yeah, he was a criminal, involved in all kinds of shady shit, but we all were in this business. Leo was tough but fair, and he’d always been good to me.

Entering the massive room covered in velvet-patterned green wallpaper, I strolled unhurriedly across the dark, wide-planked floor before taking the seat beside my brother. My father leaned back in his chair and looked at us over his massive desk. Seriously, you could park a fucking Buick on that thing.

“Damiano, aren’t you going to say hello to your brother?” he cajoled.

I didn’t even spare my sibling a glance. “No. Fuck him.”

Our father attempted a scowl but not before we caught his furtive smirk. He loved this shit. After all, he’s the one who pitted us against each other all those years ago.

“Now, now. Play nice. Fiero is your brother,” he said in a false tone of placation.

“Can we get this meeting started, please?” I asked, flicking my eyes toward Fiero. “The stench in here is ungodly.”

Luca chuckled and shook his head. “Okay. I need help with some business and, ah, personal matters this week. I’m flying to Las Vegas for a meeting I can’t miss. Fiero, you will go with me on the jet.”

“Okay,” my brother replied simply.

Our father turned to me. “Your task is a personal favor to me. Since I can’t miss this meeting, I need you to go to New Orleans and pick up an… item I have acquired. You’ll take the helicopter.”

I nodded slowly, trying not to let him see my excitement. New Orleans was a fun city, and I hadn’t been in a couple years. Lots of amusing trouble I could get into there. “Fine,” I told him, maintaining my surly attitude. “What will I be picking up?”

Hell, it could be anything. Guns. Money. Or…

“It’s not drugs is it?” I asked, my stomach coiling like a rope.

My father’s face reddened, as if he were about to explode with rage. “No, for fuck’s sake. I’m aware of your issues, which I’m getting sick of, by the way. You need to stop being such a goddamn pussy about that.” I easily could have killed him without a second of remorse. He sat back and smiled smugly, lowering his voice. “I’m acquiring a new… friend.”

A woman.

“What happened to Maryanne?” I asked, hiding my disgust by pulling out my knife and flicking it open to casually clean beneath my fingernails with the tip.

“I gifted her to one of the capos.” God, he’s such a fucking pig. “Then there was Pepper after Maryanne. I don’t think you ever met her since you never come to visit me.”

“Pepper?” I asked, and my father shrugged.

“Not sure of her real name. That’s what I called her because she had a spicy pussy.” My fingers tightened around the handle of the knife, and Fiero’s knee pressed subtly against mine. A warning. “My pretty Pepper met with an unfortunate accident yesterday, and I need a replacement.”

One flick of my wrist, and I could have my blade embedded in his throat. Watch him bleed out like the pig he was. Beside me, Fiero spread his legs, bumping my knee with his once again. Another warning.

But our father didn’t notice because he had risen and was twisting the dial on his standing safe in the corner. With some effort, he pulled out three black duffel bags that looked heavy.

“You’ll need to take these with you. The folks in New Orleans only deal in cash.”

Cash? He was buying a woman? Fuck almighty!

Fiero and I were both silent as Father closed the safe and left the bags on the floor before going back behind his desk. “Come around here. I need you to take a look at the friend I’ve selected. I don’t want those fuckers to try the old bait and switch with me.”

Friend. That word irked me more than anything. He’s buying a fucking person! And I was a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t want to be friends with Luca Cappitani.

Rounding the desk, I stood behind my father’s chair as he sat and wiggled the mouse to turn on his desktop computer. His fingers clacked across the keys, bringing up a black-screened website with Goods & Services, Incorporated written across the center in a bold white script. Well, that’s vague.

“Both of you, turn around while I put in my password,” Luca snapped, and we did. After a few keystrokes, he muttered, “Okay, you can look now.”

I did and wished I hadn’t. My father leaned back in his chair and stroked a finger over his lips as we watched the video on the screen. It was surprisingly clear.

“My girl is number five,” he said, almost dazedly.

The camera stalled on a raven-haired Latino woman with the number one on a white sheet of paper duct taped to her chest. She was standing against a wall wearing a tank top and shorts, and her eyes looked hazy as she glanced to her right and then back at the camera. It was obvious she was being coached because she pushed a tremulous smile across her lips.

The view moved to the woman on her left, number two, a blonde who repeated the rightward glance and forced smile. Three was another blonde, and tears dripped down her face as she attempted to push the corners of her lips upward. She looked so afraid, and rightly so.

Woman number four was obviously still affected by whatever drug they’d given her because she swayed as she looked at the ground, her red hair draping across her face. There was no sound on the video, but someone must have snapped at her because her head rose, one hand swiping the damp strands from her face.

I glanced at Fiero, whose lip was curled up into a grimace of revulsion. I’m sure mine looked the same.

“Here she is,” Luca said, his words almost coming out in pants as he palmed his crotch. I wondered how difficult it would be to cut off his dick with the letter opener on the corner of the desk.

My eyes slowly returned to the screen and then widened in shock. The caramel-haired beauty also had a number taped to her chest, which was exposed by the light-purple swimsuit she was wearing. She was gorgeous, but the most striking thing about her was the resolute glare in her bright blue eyes.

She didn’t smile at all, her lips instead forming a defiant sneer that only made her more beautiful. Bruises dotted her arms and legs—which made me want to hurt whoever had dared to touch her—and when she lifted both hands, I noticed she was the only woman who was bound with thick layers of duct tape around her wrists.

Her blue eyes narrowed toward whoever was speaking off camera and then rolled back to stare out at me. Or it felt like she was looking directly at me… into my fucking soul. Then she bared her teeth in the meanest smile I’d ever seen on such a pretty face at the same time she lifted both middle fingers.

I barked out a laugh—though there was absolutely nothing funny about this situation—but her sheer bravery was captivating. She had to be scared to death, and yet she’d just given a big fuck you to whomever was watching. I was weirdly proud of her.

“Worth every penny of the seven million I’m paying for her,” Luca muttered. “She's going to be fun to break.”

Over my cold, dead body. I wasn’t sure where that thought came from, besides being outraged at the treatment of these women like any decent human would be. Not that I was entirely decent. Not even close, but I did have a tiny bit of humanity left in my dark heart.

But this was something greater than mere humanity. It was her . Number five. Fuck, I didn’t even know her name, but I knew she was something special.

Luca continued, unaware that my hands were reaching for his neck, prepared to strangle him from behind. “Tits are kinda small, but I’ll get her some implants.”

You sick, motherfucking prick…

I was an inch from taking my father’s life when I was yanked backward by the neck of my dark-gray dress shirt. “Okay,” Fiero said, “you’ve seen who he wants. Now get going. I’m tired of fucking looking at you.” He shoved me toward the bags on the floor, his brown eyes flashing like a caution flag as he followed me.

Pulling myself from the spell the feisty woman had put me under, I stomped toward the duffels and picked one up. “Make yourself useful and carry one of these to my car,” I demanded, shoving it at him. It weighed around fifty pounds.

I picked up the other two as my brother muttered, “Whatever will get you out of here sooner.”

Almost to the door, I paused when my father called my name. “Damiano.” I glanced over my shoulder to find his smug-as-hell smile. “Don’t fuck her. I want her fresh when I get home from Nevada.”

The only thing that saved his life was a hard push in the back from my brother. “Jesus. Move already. I’ve got shit to do.”

Every nerve ending in my body was being seared by a fury like I’d never known, but I pushed it way down deep before stopping beside a framed photograph in the foyer. Dropping one of the bags, I kissed my first two fingers and pressed them against the faces of my mother and sister. When I was done, Fiero did the same.

Then I picked up the dropped duffel and walked out the front door, which was being held by Sebastian, with my brother on my heels. Popping open the trunk, I shifted my eyes to find Fiero looking warily at me.

“You all right?” he muttered under his breath.

“He’s buying a fucking human,” I hissed.

“I’ll talk to Leo,” he whispered, making a show of shoving me aside when a guard approached, armed with a semi-automatic rifle as he made his rounds. “Jesus, let me do it. You can’t fucking do anything right.” That was said in a louder voice for the benefit of the guard.

The big dude chuckled. “You two try not to kill each other in the driveway. The gardener’s going to be pissed if he has to break out the power washer to clean up the stains.”

“I’ll make sure to shove Fiero into the grass before I blow his brains out,” I commented, earning me another laugh from the man as he sauntered around the corner of the house.

My brother and I had to put on this show of hatred for each other, although, in actuality, he was the only person in the world I gave a shit about. However, we couldn’t let our father know that. In his mind, any loyalty shown to anyone but him was a betrayal.

Once the guard was gone, Fiero shoved his bag of money into the trunk. “You need to keep your cool, Dame. I saw you almost lose it in there.”

“That was a goddamn trafficking site. Has he done this before?”

My brother shook his head. “Not that I know of. He usually picks up a girl in the club and then takes her home and keeps her. Leo’s not going to be happy when he finds out.”

I nodded, wedging one of my duffels into the trunk. “He’s done his best to keep any kind of human trafficking out of our business.” Picking up the other bag, I realized it wasn’t going to fit into the tiny trunk of the Porsche and went around to the passenger side, sticking the final bag of money onto the seat.

“I’ll talk to Leo and try to take care of this.”

“Thanks, Fi,” I said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was looking. We couldn’t even risk a fist bump or handshake of solidarity because there were cameras everywhere outside our father’s estate. “Stay safe, brother.”

“You too,” he said, giving me a solemn nod.

As I climbed in my car and drove away, the stunning blue eyes of the woman my father was purchasing floated through my mind, and I hoped Leo could get Luca Cappitani in check. Because there was no way I was handing that fierce angel over to be abused by the man I despised.

No way in hell.