Always the Villain (Vitale Brothers #6)

Prologue Cesare

Power wasn’t something you inherit—it's something you take. And my son, Benito, has taken everything from me. He sits on my throne, running my city into the ground.

My hand clenched around the glass in my hand, the amber liquid sloshing back and forth as the round ball of ice slowly melted. I stared into it, contemplating just what I was going to do next.

All of my sons had abandoned me. Part of me wanted to return to Italy, but what the hell was I supposed to do there?

Sit around? Get a tan? Waste away into nothing while the rest of the world still kept turning?

I was only fifty-four, for God's sake, nowhere near retirement age, and yet that's what Benito wanted from me.

Retirement.

I shoved back in my chair, the wheels squeaking as it rolled back and the chair hit the wall.

Ignoring it, I turned and opened the windows, staring out from my office at the lights below.

Sure, I had given him the wheel when I went to prison, but he was supposed to give it back.

That was many years ago, and he refused to relinquish control.

Well, if he wasn't willing to give it to me, I would take it.

"Cesare, what are we doing?"

I glanced up at Santiago, one of my many cousins. He was a made man just like me, but he wanted to move to the US. Italy was dangerous for men like us, of course it was, but there was more protection here. Especially with me running the show.

"We're moving," I said.

"No, we're stalling," Pietro cut in. "Benito is kicking our asses around every corner. We try and he pushes back." He scowled, his thick accent only growing as he continued. "That little bastard is smarter than I remember."

I shook my head. No, Benito had always been intelligent.

It was one of the reasons I'd wanted him in charge.

I just hadn't realized how calculating he was.

He kept my empire under his ring-clad thumb, and the only thing I could do was to try to tear him apart from the inside out. Nothing else would work.

"I told you, I'm working on it," I said as I sat the glass on my desk with a loud thunk. "There are plans being put into motion…"

"And yet we don't know the plans," Santiago said smugly. "You give us a bit here, the others a bit there, but not all at once." He leaned forward. "I have to wonder if you even know what you're doing anymore, Cesare."

I stared at him. Immediately, I saw the recognition in his eyes that he had fucked up, but it was too late.

I reached out, grabbed a handful of his hair, and slammed his face into the desk.

When Santiago sat up straight, dizzy and disoriented, there was blood on his nose and mouth.

The droplets ran over his lips, dripping to the floor below in a satisfying pattern.

One move, one act of violence, and I felt all the knotted muscles in my back and shoulders disappear.

Fuck, I needed that.

"We're not trying to question you, of course," Pietro said quickly, his eyes darting from Santiago to me, and back again. "Right?"

Santiago nodded. He now held his bleeding nose between his fingers, pinching it to try to stop the flow.

I would have laughed, but it was far from funny when I was facing what I was facing.

My son was a force to be reckoned with. Him and his whore of a husband.

If we weren't careful, they could make my life a living hell.

Not that they cared. I was a bygone era, the man they all wanted in the ground.

The one that had crafted the plate they feasted from.

But only the good die young. And I was fucking rotten.

"I know things are taking their time, but I got you here, didn't I?

Not like either of you could have done that on your own.

Most of the family couldn't," I reminded them.

With their criminal records, there was no way they would be allowed to travel to New York.

I'd made that happen, and they needed to remember that.

"Gentlemen," I said, putting on a smile that I didn't remotely feel.

"We're going to be back in power before you know it.

Once I lead the charge, you'll be right there with me. Understood?"

They both nodded. Just like that, the meeting was concluded.

They seemed to understand that without me having to say it.

Each of them told me good night before they disappeared from my face.

That was probably a good idea. I was already on edge; my nerves shot despite me trying to soothe them with a drink.

My phone dinged. I looked at it and saw Blake’s name flash across the screen. He texted me a lot lately. I tried to put some distance between us, but the boy refused to quit.

Why? What could he possibly want?

As far as I knew, Blake had everything he wanted: a mother who lived nearby, a husband he doted on, and a family who accepted him. What the hell did he want with me?

Blake: Hey. Up for a drink?

I stiffened. He was asking me out for a drink?

Immediately, my stomach tightened. All I could think about was the fact that he had gotten close to Benito.

If my oldest son told Blake to get to me, would he?

Part of me immediately said yes, but another part, the one I wasn't sure I could trust, said Blake didn't have it in him to do underhanded shit.

Not like that. Still, safety came first in this life.

Always. If you underestimated one man? You could end up dead.

Cesare: Not tonight. Late meeting.

Blake: Oh. Okay. Everything good?

Cesare: Yes, of course.

Cesare: Did you need something?

Blake: … No. Night, Cesare.

Cesare: Good night.

It felt odd even saying good night. When had anyone said that to me over the years? The things you missed when they went away and came back? Yeah, that was the shit that really fucked you up.

Putting my phone away, I shook myself and stood up a little straighter.

I didn't have time to get distracted. This power play was just getting started, and I needed all the concentration I could get to make sure I came out victorious.

I grabbed my jacket and headed down to my car after sending a text to my driver.

As soon as I arrived, he was there, holding open the car door and letting me into the back.

"Where to, Mr. Vitale?" Marco asked, his bushy brows lifting in the rearview mirror.

"Silver Dreams," I said as I poured myself another drink. I sat back, watching the world go by once we hit the street. "You can take the night off after. I'll grab a taxi on the way back."

"Yes, sir."

With that, I zoned out. There was no point in having small talk, not when my mind was preoccupied by what I needed to do.

Santiago and Pietro were not the only ones I had made promises to.

Soon, everyone would be clamoring for results.

If I couldn't convince Benito to step down, that only left one course of action.

One I wasn't sure I was ready to take.

Entering the doors of Silver Dreams was always a magnetic experience.

The rest of the world behind me—the beeping cars, the shouting vendors, the man on the corner playing guitar—were all shut out as soon as the doors closed.

Walk into the next set and you were in a fantasy land.

Women and men paraded around half naked.

They carried trays, hung on people's arms, or greeted you as you entered.

Music played throughout the main hall, soft and sweet.

It was meant to calm you, to lure you in.

I knew in other spaces there was pumping music, sweat-slicked bodies, and no-holds-barred orgies, but I wasn't after that tonight.

In fact, there was only one person on my mind.

"Cesare," Grand Myah, the madam, called to me, a smile on her lips. "So nice of you to join us this evening."

I nodded at her. "Figured I would blow off some steam."

"Of course," she purred. "An important man like you deserves some time to unwind.

" She sailed over to me. Despite her being in her late seventies, the woman was elegant in a way most women could never even hope to obtain.

She met me, and I kissed her cheek. A sign of respect for someone who had been around the family for so long. "Have you come to see your friend?"

Friend. That was one way to put it. I'd run across Rafael a few weeks ago when I came to check out the new talent.

I'd been waist deep in pretty girls when he walked by.

Rafael. He was all bronzed, brown skin, long silken hair, and bright eyes.

It was the little smirk he'd given me that made me interested, as if he was in on some secret about me that I knew nothing about.

"Yes," I said. "Is he available?"

"Right this way," she said.

I followed Grand Myah through the labyrinth that was the brothel.

After the first one burned down, the second one had been built up even bigger and better than before.

I had to admit that Benito had gotten that part right.

Every bit of the place was a testament to architectural indulgence.

And yet it was still warm, still inviting both to the upper class and those who only dreamed of being there.

We ended up outside of a room with double doors. I raised a brow.

"This isn't his room."

Grand Myah waved a hand. "I think I know where my people sleep, Cesare," she said, a small smile on her lips. "Rafael's room was being renovated the last few times you were here. Besides, he's more than proved that he deserves a place like this. He is my highest earner."

Highest earner. Those two words made me pull a face. I knew he was popular, but just how popular?

"Well, if he's busy I can always take someone else," I said shortly.

The doors opened and Rafael appeared, smiling at me.

As usual, the man was half dressed. The black shirt he wore showed off his cut abs and the deep V that ended in jeans that hung off his hips.

A light happy trail disappeared into those pants, and I found myself following it with my eyes.

When I realized I was staring, I turned to Grand Myah. The woman was gone.

Spry old bitch.

That woman was something else.

"Hey," Rafael said as I continued to stand there, feeling… slightly stupid. "Are you going to come in?"

I hesitated. Seeing a man was weird enough, but seeing one multiple times? Maybe I was getting senile in my old age, because I wasn't sure what had gotten into me. However, there was just something about Rafael that gripped me and refused to let go. He held out a hand. I stared at it.

"Vamos. Eu n?o vou morder."

My hand wrapped around his, and I let myself be led into his room. Fuck it, one more night couldn't hurt.