Page 55 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

T he sound of crystal glasses clinking together echoed like wind chimes in a storm as I walked through Milano’s golden doors.

The ma?tre d' stood behind a small podium of dark mahogany, his posture military-straight, his expression betraying nothing as he surveyed us. The restaurant’s foyer smelled of truffles and money—that distinct aroma that only comes from places where the wealthy gather to perform the ancient ritual of conspicuous consumption.

“Reservation for Baldwin,” my voice carried that subtle command that made people scramble to please me.

“Of course, Mr. Baldwin. We’ve been expecting you.” The ma?tre d' bowed slightly, gathering menus bound in supple leather. “Please, follow me.”

We moved through the dimly lit space like royalty, every head turning as we passed. Many of the faces had been at the funeral, although I’d avoided speaking to them at the wake given the abrupt ending to the service.

I chuckled to myself. If only they knew a killer walked amongst them….

There were several private rooms, which all had back entrances. I didn’t need to hide from society. They could whisper and point. I was immune.

But as the ma?tre d' held open the door, I saw that my brother had taken advantage of the discreet entrance. He sat across from Callahan Voss, their conversation paused for my entrance.

“Gentlemen,” I said with a nod.

The ambient glow of candles on the table and the soft lighting above were a delicate counterpoint to the savage hunger in Alessandro’s eyes.

“Ah! Good evening, Mr. Baldwin. I was wondering if you would make it,” the politician greeted me with fiendish delight.

The fucker thought he held all the cards.

Little did he know that we had the information necessary to destroy him thanks to my wife’s fine work.

“Circumstances changed, Mr. Voss, and my evening cleared.” I took a seat.

No waiters were allowed in here per Alessandro’s instructions. So I poured myself a glass of wine, noting the subtle notes of cherries and smoke. I took a sip, savoring the earthy, rustic flavor.

I wasn’t a wine enthusiast, but my older brother knew how to order a good chianti.

Voss shifted in his seat. “I wonder that you drink that. You’ll forgive me for sticking with plain water.”

I eyed the bottle, then shot my brother a dark look.

“If I poisoned you, Mr. Voss, you would damn my brother,” the don said simply and took a sip of his own wine.

“Still, can’t be too safe with your kind.” Voss laughed. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Sandro pursed his lips. The poor bastard hated every minute of this. He reached under the table and withdrew a briefcase.

“Half a million.”

“Our contribution to your campaign,” I added, trying to remain neutral to balance out Sandro’s grumpiness.

“A good start.” Voss’s eyes flashed with greed as he leaned forward, fingers drumming against the starched white tablecloth. “Rather light for what I’m offering, gentlemen.”

My brother’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. Only those who knew him well would recognize the dangerous tension building beneath his calm exterior.

“Interesting perspective,” I said, swirling the wine in my glass. “From where I’m sitting, it seems quite generous considering your precarious position.”

Voss’s smile faltered. “Precarious? I’m leading in every poll.”

“Polls change,” Alessandro interjected, voice smooth as silk but cold as ice. “Especially when certain information becomes public.”

“Information?” he snapped, not bothering to count the money. A man like Voss knew better than to insult us with such a display.

Alessandro leaned forward, his wine glass dangling between two fingers. “You won’t be publishing anything on my brother’s blood ties.”

The politician’s smile disappeared. “I believe we discussed terms quite clearly. My silence for your ongoing contributions and support.”

“The terms have changed.” I kept my voice level, watching his face carefully. “We’re not just buying your silence anymore. We’re buying your loyalty.”

Voss chuckled nervously. “Gentlemen, I’ve already promised—”

I slid my phone across the table, screen displaying a series of explicit photos—Voss with a woman who was decidedly not his wife. The timestamp showed last Tuesday.

“There’s more, but I think this is sufficient to show you what level of damage you’re dealing with,” I said with a smile. “You have dirt on us; now we’re at an impasse.”

The color drained from Voss’s face as he stared at the damning evidence. His fingers curled into a fist beside his wine glass, knuckles whitening with the strain of containing his rage.

“You think this changes anything?” he hissed through clenched teeth, keeping his voice low despite the fury dancing in his eyes. “There are copies of my evidence in multiple locations. If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing will happen to you,” Alessandro cut in smoothly. “We’re businessmen, not barbarians.”

The feel of the cousin’s slim neck snapping under pressure tingled on my fingers.

Barbarians?

We were fucking monsters.

Voss snatched my phone from the table and slid it back to me with enough force that it nearly tumbled into my lap. “This is blackmail.”

“This is negotiation,” Sandro corrected. “Take the money, support our interests, and we’ll ensure these photos never see daylight.”

“And there will be no more random appearances at my house to decorate my ankles with bracelets,” I bit out. “I see another one of your goons in suits, and I’ll make them disappear.”

The politician’s jaw worked silently as he processed his options. His face transformed, a mask of civility cracking to reveal the rage beneath. His complexion flushed crimson. “I see we understand one another.” The politician rose. “Well played, gentlemen. We’ll be in touch.”

He left through the front doors, briefcase in hand.

I held up my wine glass. “Before we continue, do I need an antidote?”

Alessandro leaned over, took my glass, and drained it. “Not tonight, fratello.”

Taking the bottle, I poured another glass. The don’s brows shot up in surprise.

“After the day I’ve had, I need whatever I can get my hands on,” I muttered and downed it.

“Ah, yes, Penelope said the cousin was murdered.” Alessandro toyed with his own glass.

“It was better than the motherfucker deserved.”

“Rumors are coming out. I didn’t know your wife danced naked in Ibiza.”

I choked. “They’re lies, Sandro. If she’s dancing naked, it will be for me and me alone.”

The don lifted his glass in a salute, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. After he took a sip, he leaned against the table, the casual gesture only partially masking his intensity. “Let’s get down to business, fratello. That bastard Voss has to be silenced.”

His voice was as level as his glare was sharp. From the way the politician left, I couldn’t agree more. The prospect of leaving loose strings was unpalatable. We risked everything staying in this stalemate with Voss.

I nodded, rubbing my chin in thought. “And how do we do that? This won’t be an easy pest to eradicate.”

“Simple. We make it in someone else’s best interest to take care of this particular infestation. An incentive will change everything.” A glimmer of vicious amusement sparked in his eyes—Sandro loved nothing more than playing puppet master.

“Someone who’s going to boast about this hit,” I said, catching his drift.

He chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. “Exactly. I know just the person.”

I finished my wine and rose from the table with renewed energy. “Make the call.”

The words tasted like victory.