Page 39 of Ruthless Lord

Charlie

A driano Marino paces across his office. The recording of my father’s conversation with my grandfather hangs in the air. Don Marino’s face is a mask of anger, and a storm cloud is practically forming over his head.

“You can swear this is real?” He looks at Stefano, who nods once. “And did he survive?”

“Unfortunately.”

Adriano sinks down into a chair behind his desk, cursing quietly to himself in Italian. He stares at me, expression sharp and hard. “And you knew nothing about this?”

I struggle to maintain my composure. “Absolutely nothing.”

He glances at Stefano. Clearly, the don doesn’t trust me.

“She’s done nothing but try to take her family down.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “We can trust her.”

I slip my fingers through his and squeeze lightly. Thank you .

Adriano leans back, considering the pair of us. I don’t know the Don very well, but from what I’ve seen of him, he can be very fair. He’s smart and patient, but he’s also ruthless. He doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“It’s good your father isn’t dead,” he says at last. “It’ll be easier this way.”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“Because if you ended up as the Westbrook heir, it would look suspicious.”

I look around, not sure what he’s talking about. “Would that matter? My grandfather’s still in charge.”

“Not for long.” Adriano leans toward us, staring hard. “This level of betrayal can’t stand. Not even a man like your grandfather is above my retribution.”

A chill runs down my spine. This is the power of the Marino Famiglia.

“You want to kill him?” I ask, voice small and meek. I hate myself for that a little bit. I wish I could be stronger and taller.

“It’s not a matter of want. He has to die.

There’s no other option. I can’t overlook what he’s been doing.

” Adriano shakes his head, glaring hard.

“He tricked you into marrying one of my important lieutenants. He tried to use you to spy on me. When that wasn’t working, he orchestrated another plan with your father.

The pair of them wanted to steal my operation’s secrets.

They wanted to destroy me. It cannot stand. ”

I shake my head, trying to come to grips with what he’s saying. “But you want to kill my grandfather?”

“Not want,” Stefano says, squeezing my hand. “It’s what will happen, Charlie.”

I try to fathom it. Grandfather’s been a force since the day I was born. Even now, well into his eighties, he’s still sharp as a knife and deadly like a crocodile. I never thought the old man would ever actually die.

“We can’t kill him,” I blurt out, desperate and stupid. “I mean, it’s Grandfather, I just?—”

“What did you think would happen?” Adriano asks, eyes narrowed at me. “When you came to me with this?”

“I figured you’d stop him. Hurt him a little bit. I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d kill him.”

Both men stare at me. Stefano doesn’t release my hand. There’s sadness in his expression, and that’s what finally breaks me.

This is really happening.

And maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s what needs to happen. Still, the thought of life without Grandfather is bizarre. It’s almost impossible.

“He’s right, Charlie,” Stefano whispers softly. “We’ll do it quickly. He doesn’t need to suffer.”

“Although I wouldn’t mind if he did,” Adriano murmurs.

I take a moment to process. My heart’s beating up into my throat. I want to stand and walk around in circles just to work some of this anxiety out of my body. Except I know nothing will help.

Grandfather has to die.

I let out a long breath and lean back in my chair. “When will you do it?”

“As soon as I can.” Adriano nods at Stefano. “You’ll make the plans.”

“Done.”

“And what about my father?” I look between the men. “You said it’s better he survived?”

Adriano strokes his cheek and sighs. “As much as I’d love to cut his throat, it’ll be useful to have him at the head of the Westbrook empire.

You’d be too suspicious, Charlie, and Stefano tells me you don’t even want it.

But I think we can use your father. I think he’ll be very friendly toward our operation after your grandfather is out of the way. ”

I feel sick, but he’s right. My dad’s a useful idiot. All he cares about is money and power, and he’ll gladly hand himself over to Adriano so long as he gets to sit at the head of the Westbrook empire.

“We’ll do it.” I lower my head and stare at the floor before turning my gaze back to my husband. He nods to me slightly, his expression strong and firm for both of us. “We’ll rip my family to pieces.”

“I know that wasn’t easy.” Stefano touches his wine glass to mine. “But I’m proud of you.”

I lift my drink to my lips and take a sip. The restaurant is quiet around us. We have a good table in the corner, and I’m stuffed from a fantastic meal. I should be in better spirits, but it still feels like I’m making a terrible mistake.

“All my life I was told Grandfather is the undisputed master of our family. I was told I had to learn everything from him, do whatever he said, basically throw myself on his mercy if I wanted a chance at a good life. And now we’re talking about…

removing him.” I let out a long breath. “It’s just hard to fathom. ”

Stefano nods a little. I’ve been saying the same thing over and over but in different shapes for the past hour, but he hasn’t gotten impatient. If anything, I’m seeing a much more empathetic and caring side of him.

“You know what draws me to you?”

“Aside from my perfect figure?”

He smiles, and his eyes stray to my neckline. “Aside from that. It’s your strength. And it’s the way you’ll do anything to feel like you’re making your own choices.”

I let that one sink in. “Doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“I think you’ve been seeing yourself through the lens of your family for too long. Maybe it’s time to let them go.”

“That’s not all that easy.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Since they’re such great people and all.”

I snort softly and look down at my empty plate. “I guess I’m just having trouble figuring out who I am if I’m not a Westbrook.”

“You’ll always be a Westbrook,” he says quietly, leaning forward. The intensity of his stare is magnetic. I can’t look away. “No matter what you do, that’ll never change. Your life is your life. But you don’t have to keep drifting in one direction. You get to choose. That’s the magic of it all.”

“Weird hearing you talk about magic. Since it feels like the only thing you care about is breaking faces.”

“That and you.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “I didn’t expect this when we got married, but I’ve been changing too. Slowly, day by day. I used to only care about breaking the monotony, but now that you’re in my life, it’s like I’m awake again. And I love you for that.”

“You love me?” My eyes widen.

“I love you, Charlie. You have to know that by now. I’ve killed for you, and I’ll kill for you again. I’ll bleed for you too if that’s what it takes.”

“I love you too.” I squeeze his hands tightly. “But I probably won’t bleed for you. I’m very squeamish.”

“That’s why we work so well. I do the painful bits, and you do everything else.”

“What a wonderful team.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. Before you came along, I was just starting to feel old. My age is catching up with me.”

I shake my head, grinning. “Come on, don’t start doing the whole old man routine. You look ten years younger than you are.”

“Twenty, but fine. I mean it though. My knees ache. My back feels like shredded wheat. Most days, rolling out of bed is harder than a boxing match. Now you’re here?—”

“And all your age-related injuries have disappeared? I have that effect on people.”

“Not exactly. But I don’t mind it so much.”

I lean across the table and lift his hand to my lips. “I’m glad we got married.”

“I am too. Most of the time. Except for when I’m trying to be earnest and you’re responding like a smartass.”

“It’s just my defense mechanism.”

“I know. And I’ll punish you for it later.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He leans across the table and kisses me. We sit a while longer, drinking wine and talking about nothing very important, just enjoying each other’s company. By the time Stefano pays and leaves a generous tip, the restaurant’s closing and the streets are empty.

I lean against his side as his arm hugs me against him.

We walk together toward the car parked a block away.

It’s cool and comfortable, the summer turning to fall.

I love these transition times. Not really one thing or the other.

I can pretend either way if I want. Shorts or sweaters.

Sneakers or flip-flops. Pumpkin spice or?—

I look down at the ground. A shiny new penny glitters in the streetlight. “Hey, check it out.” I pause to pick it up. Stefano moves a few steps past me. “You don’t see these all that often anymore.”

“Aren’t they getting rid of them?”

“Hopefully.” I look up, grinning. “Can’t come soon?—”

A shadow comes hurtling out of an alley behind Stefano. I cry out in alarm, and he reacts on instinct, dodging downwards, lowering his shoulder as a man slams into him from the side.

That move saved his life. A knife whistles in the space where his throat was a second before. Stefano moves like liquid, and I stare in dumbfounded horror as he slams fists into the man’s body, knocking him sideways, taking a knife slash to the cheek in the process.

The attacker dances back, clutching his ribs, holding the knife up. “I’m not here for you,” he snarls, eyes flicking to me. “I just want the girl.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Stefano circles him slowly.

“Micky.” My eyes go wide when I recognize the voice. “You’re working for my father.”

Micky doesn’t hesitate. He lunges at Stefano, knife slicing through the air. If my husband were anyone else, he’d be dead by now. There are few people in this world who can win a fight against an armed opponent, but he’s one of them.

He does it by letting Micky stab him.

Not somewhere important. Just right in the bicep.

He grunts, teeth gritted in agony, as he charges forward.

The men begin to grapple, and anyone else would’ve lost by now.

He’s got a knife stuck in his arm. Except Stefano’s a raging psychopath, and the pain doesn’t seem to slow him down.

Blood leaks around the handle, rolling down his arm, as he wraps Micky in a complicated chokehold.

The two of them topple to the pavement, hitting with a sickening thud.

My hands clutch at my mouth. If I could move, I’d be screaming.

Instead, I’m pinned in place, horrified as Stefano tightens his grip on the assassin.

Micky’s hands scrabble at Stefano, trying to get his face, thumbs searching for Stefano’s eyes, but the angle’s not right.

Slowly, Micky’s face turns red then purple and the strength leaks from his flailing limbs.

Stefano holds him even after he stops moving. He holds and holds, for longer than makes sense, until finally he releases the body with a low snarl.

I run to his side, released from the spell. He’s on his back, staring at the sky. The knife is still in his arm, buried to the hilt.

“Oh my god, Stefano. Are you okay?”

“I got stabbed.”

“Just hold on. I’ll call someone. The doctor?—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I hate getting stabbed.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out his phone, and thumbs through the contacts. When the phone’s calling, he shoves it at me. “Tell the doc it’s for me. Tell him I got stabbed again.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Too many.” He sighs and slowly pushes himself up, holding his stabbed arm against his chest. “Way too fucking many.”