Page 23 of Twisted Trust

“Maeve?”

“Chip. H–Hi.”

6

LEVI

Antony Marino has the most punchable face I’ve ever seen in my life.

The bastard calls a meeting, demands my presence, and then shows up via video call rather than in person.

It’s like he’s trying to make some sort of statement about how he can snap his fingers and I have no choice but to save face.

The conversation with my father swirls around my mind as Antony brags in code about how much product we’ve managed to move through the local Casinos.

In business terms, it’s been amazing.

Cooking such large quantities was a challenge I was able to overcome by entirely reworking our distribution network to ensure quality product hit the street less than twelve hours after it was cooked.

Such a premise was a challenge but after opening up countless more cookhouses and bringing the Las Vegas production on site, supplying the casinos has never been easier.

And with The Wolves running protection and ensuring that every patron is offered a sample, we’re drawing in more money than we ever have in the entirety of my father’s reign as Don.

And fucking Antony Marino takes credit for it.

I never should have agreed to let him come down to Vegas and oversee production.

Back then, I was caught up with The Wolves and working my debt back to Nazario.

Antony was nothing more than my greasy cousin with more balls than sense.

I didn’t see him as a threat.

My mistake, it seems.

In a blink, Antony gained such a foothold in Vegas that barely anything moves without his say so.

It’s his contacts in the Las Vegas Police Department who keep them off our backs, and it’s his men who distribute throughout the casinos, and his men who run the games.

In just two years, he went from a goon meant to oversee simple cookhouses to somehow on top.

And with that comes the offer he’s hungered for.

Don is within his grasp.

Unless I do something about it.

Killing him is an option and as his snarky, proud grin drifts back and forth on the screen, I contemplate how I’d get away with it.

Cutting him down wouldn’t earn the loyalty of everyone under him and even the strength of the XXX Syndicate couldn’t weather a mass exodus of his loyal men.

The only way to kick him down and earn that loyalty is to take my rightful place as Don.

But how?

By the time the meeting is over, my chest is tight from anger and each breath is painful.

Donald scurries after me as I stride down the corridor toward the elevator and hands me a bottle of water.