Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
DOM
W e walk down the hall lined with ugly paintings and gaudy vases. There are CCTV cameras in almost every corner, just like the map showed. Whoever designed this place had one thing in mind: security. I can't say they’ve done a good job though. I snicker at the thought because if they had, I wouldn't have a detailed map of the house or know its blind spots. We reach the double doors of Carmelo's study, where two more meatheads are guarding the entrance. Brick Wall knocks and a gravelly voice calls out "Come in."
My pulse jumps at the sound of that voice. All the hairs on my body stand up. I've spoken to Carmelo before but hearing that voice now that I know he planned Jennifer's death sends a cold thrill down my spine.
Brick Wall opens the heavy oak door and pokes his head into the study.
"Mr. Barone, the new guy is here," he announces.
"Well don't just stand there, send him in," Carmelo replies impatiently.
Brick Wall steps back and gestures for me to enter. I steel myself and walk through the doorway, hearing the door shut close behind me.
Inside, a short, wiry man sits behind an ornate, antique desk. His hairline is receding and his face looks like it was chiseled from granite. His beady eyes fix on me as I approach. This is Carmelo Barone, Capodecina of the Cosa Nostra New York crime family. The man I am here to kill. It takes all my self-control not to leap over the desk and snap his scrawny neck right now.
"Giovanni Micheli, right?" he asks, extending a bony hand. I resist the urge to crush his fingers as I shake it.
"Please, have a seat." He gestures to the leather chair across from his desk. I sit down slowly, hyper aware of the pistol strapped to my ankle. Carmelo settles back into his own chair but perches on the edge, as if he's ready to leap up at any moment. His attempt to seem imposing would be comical if I didn't know what he is capable of.
"Thank you for hiring me, Mr. Barone," I reply evenly. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to join your security team."
Carmelo studies me with his beady eyes. "I only hire the best to protect my family. Don Carlo highly recommended you"
I nod as Carmelo stands up. Even standing, he is not much taller than me.
"So, Micheli, you'll be taking over as my wife's personal bodyguard," Carmelo begins, pointing a finger at me. "I expect you to keep an eye on her at all times. No slacking off."
He paces back and forth behind his desk. "Report to me on everywhere she goes and everything she does. I want detailed daily reports. Understand?"
I nod. "Yes sir, of course."
"She's only allowed to go to the gym twice a week. No more than that," he says sharply. "I can't have her putting on too much muscle and looking like a freak. A woman needs to look like a woman, with delicate curves and soft breasts. You know what I mean."
I don't respond. Because what does he expect me to say? Men who treat their women like this disgust me.
"One more thing," Carmelo’s lips curl into a cruel smirk. "Mia isn't allowed any outside contact. No phone, no internet, no leaving the estate unless I give express permission. I need you to monitor her every move."
I force a neutral nod, swallowing the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat.
"And she only eats when I say so," he leans forward with a twisted glint in his eyes. "Withholding food is the best way to keep that little firecracker in line. I've given the cook instructions to prepare mostly salads and lean protein, small portions. She used to be an athlete so she'll eat like a horse given the chance."
He guffaws as if this is hilarious while I force an obliging smile, clenching my fists under the desk. What a sick psycho. This animal and his warped views make me sick. Starving his wife as some twisted form of control.
"You let me know if she tries to sneak any extra food," he orders.
"Of course, sir," I reply evenly, despite the rage boiling inside me. It's taken me six years to get here. Six years of running around and serving the enemy. Six years of constant investigation to find the person who killed my Jennifer. At first, I thought it was Carlo. Maybe the bastard wanted to go back on his word and cause trouble between Cosa Nostra and Camorra. After five years working as his wife's bodyguard under my fake identity, Giovanni Micheli, I found out that he wasn't the one who gave the order. It was the capodecina . The man sitting in front of me. I clench my fist so tight my knuckles turn white. Carmelo is not going to know what hit him.
"A woman shouldn't look like a man! You understand me, right?" Carmelo insists.
I force a laugh, playing along with Carmelo's twisted misogyny. "Yes, sir. A woman shouldn't be too muscular or manly."
Carmelo nods, seeming pleased that I agree with him. He sits back down in his chair, and regards me with a smug expression.
"But a tough guy like you probably doesn't understand," he says mockingly. "I know you prefer the company of men."
I raise my eyebrows, feigning confusion. Carmelo chuckles.
"Come on, Micheli. Don't play dumb. We all know you're light in the loafers," he says, tapping his temple. "Why do you think I picked you for this job?"
I just wait for him to elaborate.
"I need a bodyguard who won’t try to stick it in my wife, ya’ get it?" Carmelo explains. "So you're perfect."
I force myself not to react to his crude words, maintaining a neutral expression.
Carmelo leans forward, steepling his fingers. "It has been noticed that you never spend time with women. No dates, no girls on the side, nothing. So we figured out your preferences." He raises his hands in mock surrender before he continues. "There ain't nothing wrong with that. It works out very well for me, actually."
I chuckle, playing along with Carmelo's homophobic assumptions even as they make my blood boil. This man is truly despicable. But I know I need to play along if I want to get close enough to exact my revenge.
"Well, you don't need to worry about me making any moves on your wife, sir," I reply evenly. "My interests lie elsewhere, as you've rightly guessed."
Carmelo laughs loudly, slapping his thigh. "I knew it! A tough guy like you, never chasing any pretty little bitch? It was obvious." He leans forward conspiratorially. "So tell me, Micheli, you got yourself a fella on the side here in Cosa Nostra? Who does the bending? Ahhh, a guy your size would top I'm sure"
What the hell? He's not only a sick fuck, he's also a homophobic bastard. I shake my head. "No sir, I'm afraid I don't have time for romance in my line of work."
"Yeah, yeah, the strong silent type. I get it." Carmelo leans back in his chair. "Good, that means you'll stay focused on the job. I don't need you distracted by my wife's looks. She's a real knockout, let me tell you."
I picture just what kind of woman could end up with this vile man. She must be a gold digger or as twisted as him. The thought of her makes my skin crawl already.
Just then, a soft knock sounds at the study door. Carmelo glances at his watch and scowls. "About time!" he barks. "Get in here!"
The door opens and a petite brunette enters the room. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She's stunning, with large green eyes and delicate features. Her long hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves.
She's dressed in a tight red mini dress that clings to every curve, with a neckline that is plunging low. Very low. She is wearing black stiletto heels that accentuate her toned, athletic legs. It's far too provocative an outfit for the middle of the day.
As she nears, I notice her slight frame is tense, and her shoulders are hunched inward. She reaches up a hand to pull the front of her dress higher, trying to cover more of her exposed cleavage. The movement seems self-conscious, almost protective.
When she glances up, her striking green eyes flash with defiance, and her chin juts out in a subtle show of stubbornness despite her meek posture. Those eyes contrast starkly with her timid demeanor, revealing a hint of the fire within.
"This is my wife Mia," Carmelo announces.
I stand up immediately, years of etiquette kicking in despite my mission.
Mia Barone is nothing like I pictured when I took this assignment. She's easily the most beautiful woman I've seen since Jennifer. Her green eyes are piercing, and that red dress clings to every sensuous curve. There's an allure to her that catches me completely off guard. I clench my jaw, regaining my composure through sheer force of will. I cannot forget why I'm here. She is nothing but a means to an end. No matter how strikingly beautiful she may be.
I cannot allow myself to be distracted by this woman. She is just a means to an end: getting my revenge.