2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Vincenzo
“ W hat do you mean Jeremy is dead?” I rise from my seat behind my mahogany desk, watching as Martin shifts uncomfortably.
“I just got word, sir. The cops found him dead.” I begin pacing behind my desk. All the months of planning and the lengths I went to convincing Jeremy to sell to me have all been for nothing.
“Where did you get this information, Martin?” He loosens his collar as he stares back at me.
“Detective Morelli, Sir. He is on our payroll.” I continue my pacing taking in this new information.
“Did Detective Morelli shed any further light on the situation?” Martin nods and I roll my eyes at him, causing him to gulp audibly.
“Detective Morelli said he threw them off any suspicion of you, they know of your intent in wanting to purchase the gallery, but he said that he tampered with the evidence.” I nod and continue my pacing. I wouldn’t let this go.
“What do we do now, Enzo?” I stop in my tracks and turn to face Martin. If I could slit his throat where he stands I would, but I know my father will lose his shit if I kill another one of our men. I take a deep breath clearing the negativity that is pitting my stomach.
“Contact our private investigator, get him to look into this for us. I want to know who is taking over the gallery. I need names, addresses and everything there is to know about everything. Do I make myself clear?” My gaze is locked on Martin as he shifts uncomfortably, fear flickers across his features as he nods his understanding.
“Good, now get the fuck out of my office.”
Martin quickly leaves, closing the door behind him.
I slam my fists against the desk and let out a grunt of frustration.
I can’t fucking believe this, I finally had Jeremy by the balls, and he fucking dies.
Of course this is what happens. I begin pacing the room again, racking my brain, trying to figure out my next steps.
I slump back into my chair, dropping my head into my hands.
There is a knock at the door, and before I can respond, Kayla slinks into the room wearing a tiny black dress.
“Aw, baby. Are you okay?” she purrs. I try hard not to cringe as the bile rises up in my throat. I lean back in my chair as she sits on the edge of my desk. “Is there anything I can do to… relieve you?” she bats her eyelashes at me, and I struggle to resist the urge to push her off my desk.
“I don’t remember inviting you in, Kayla,” I sneer, a look of hurt flicks across her features but she quickly schools them.
“But honey, your papa wants us to get to know each other,” she leans back pushing out her breast and I can't help but roll my eyes at her.
“Papa wants many things, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get them.”
She pouts at me, but I'm not in the mood for her shit. “Considering you insist on acting like a petulant child, you can get the fuck out.” She lets out a huff of frustration and slides herself off my desk, storming her way across the room and yanks open the door before turning to look at me.
“Just wait until your Papa hears about this.” Tears brim her eyes, and I let out a dark chuckle.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass, princess.
” She lets out a screech of frustration and stomps out the door, slamming it behind her.
I tuck my hands behind my head and let out a frustrated groan; I really am going to hear about this from my father.
However, in this moment, I can’t bring myself to give a fuck.