Chapter 8 Dominic
Chapter eight
Dominic
“Wait till you see this one, Capo. Prime waterfront.”
The elevator groans as it ascends the building before it dings open. I walk out first, entering a large space that smells thick with cement and dust. Matteo follows, walking briskly to spread the blueprint on a wooden table.
“This beauty,” he announces with a boyish grin, straightening the edges of the paper. “Forty floors of glass and steel will be the Grimaldi tower. Each floor will be dedicated to a different land use. Hotels, condos, fashion houses...”
I watch him rant with the familiar glint in his eyes. No doubt, after mafia activities, he gains pleasure in construction.
I turn to the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the expansive view of the water. Scaffolding and steel beams tower over my view, while the clang of hammers and hiss of welding fill my ears.
I can already see my name on it. Etched, untouchable, dominating.
“And the penthouse, all yours, Capo.” He finally meets my eyes. “When this is done, we have clean money, endless laundering potential.”
“Good.”
The elevator dings, and a construction worker walks in.
“Good day, Boss,” he bows curtly before going about his work.
“Mr. Grimaldi is also working on obtaining the necessary permits,” Matteo quickly switches to legal as we approach the elevator. “He still maintains his stance on seeing more positive news of you and your wife.”
My fingers curl with irritation as I dig my hands into my pockets. That old man. Insisting on letting the narrative between me and Bella drive the contract.
“The deal is driven by the narrative he sees about you and your wife,” Mateo continues as if he just read my mind.
He presses the button, and we enter the elevator, descending from the top floor.
“For every positive piece of news, he takes a step closer to signing the contract, like securing permits, and making the necessary moves.”
“Noted. Check important functions we can attend and clear my schedule for the day.”
“Yes, Capo.”
The ride becomes quiet, and soon I find myself reeling in my thoughts of a certain ginger. Since I sent the video recording, she’s been quiet—almost nonexistent. It’s not hard to know why.
A devilish smirk tilts my lips. She’s keeping her distance—like she finally realized that I’ll follow through with every fucking threat I make. That I’ll burn the fucking world into chaos to prove a point.
“Capo,” Matteo’s surprised voice pulls me out of my thoughts, brows knitting tight at his lit-up screen. “The tech guys just caught a signal. It’s coming straight from the downtown warehouse.”
My vein pulses in my forehead. The fucking mole.
“Who?” My jaw tenses, the monster within me eager to unleash hell on the next name he mentions.
“It’s a burner phone, Capo. Signals are bouncing through—”
Fuck! “Send all the fucking men there now!”
Almost immediately, the elevator opens, and I spring out, taking larger, raging strides until I reach outside. I move to the driver’s seat, but Matteo moves faster, jumping in and kicking the engine to life.
Barreling into the passenger seat is a goddamn test of my patience. I want to take control of the wheel, but I’m too consumed by rage.
Gritting my teeth, I tap my feet relentlessly against the car’s floor carpet as Matteo zooms out of the site and onto the road.
Cars blur past my vision, every sight I catch tunneling into a red, blazing anger. My fingers itch, my rage gnaws, breath spilling out in shorter and faster pants. I swear to fucking God when I lay my hands on that fucker.
A ragged grunt leaves my lips as the car swerves at a sharp bend, screeching and rising in a way that almost causes a collision with a pole.
“Fuck!” Matteo yells, one eye on the road and the other on his screen. His face blanches, and then he says the one thing that plunges my emotions into a spiral.
“The warehouse is on fire.”
My fist crashes down on the dashboard. Fuck!
The rest of the drive passes by in a blur. When we reach the warehouse, black smoke fogs the sky in a way that shrouds the haze of anger in my eyes.
The flames rise like enemies laughing in my face, taunting and reminding me of the fucking loose end I’m unable to tie. Men swarm uselessly, their shouts drowning the inferno as firefighters struggle against the fire.
The stench of smoke and chemicals invades my nose as I head toward where the men are gathered.
“The fucking signal came from here,” Matteo grits out, trying to keep pace, but all I see is my next move.
I barely reach the swarm of men when I grab the nearest guard by the collar and shove him to the ground.
“Which one of you bastards is the rat?”
The wimp grunts, immediately scampering up, eyes wide and body jittering.
The urge to have blood on my hands is strong, but I release a long, steady breath. Someone in this place ratted me out, and until I find him, they are all fucking guilty.
Suddenly, Matteo reappears, and his voice comes low beside me. “We won’t have issues with the cops, Boss. I’ve spoken to our guy, Jonathan. We will investigate the source of the fire.”
I nod stiffly, bringing my eyes back to the line of guards. None of them dares to meet my eyes.
“No one comes in or goes out without Matteo’s clearance,” I order in a deadly whisper. Then I turn to Matteo. “Find the bastard.”
***
I don’t linger around to watch part of my empire burn into ashes. There were stashes of drugs, money, ledgers, and invoices in that fucking warehouse. Fuck knows where they’ll hit next.
My breath evens out as I loosen my tight grip on the steering wheel. I swear to God, the next hit will be by me. James, the bastard, hobbling around the docks with an eyepatch, is already marked for that.
We have men tailing him, watching his every move, until he slips and leads us to the anonymous cowards pulling the string.
I feel a headache crawl up my forehead as I take deep breaths to steady my rage. I slowly pull into the mansion, kill the engine, and jump out.
I ascend the stairs and am about to turn the corner to my wing when I suddenly bump into Isabella. Fuck. Watching her fall and exaggerate the collision would have been entertaining any other day.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, already thinking of adding a restriction to her movements. This is my wing. She doesn’t get to just waltz around here.
Her hands slowly rub at a spot on her shoulder, where she’d bumped into me. She reaches for her glasses on the floor and settles them on her nose. When her eyes land on mine, her startled look hardens into a tight frown. Then, her gaze sharpens, revulsion narrowing the corners of her eyes.
“You usually seem composed,” she starts, disgust dripping down her voice. “I guess torturing men and sending the video to your wife is enough to crack even your perfect mask.”
My jaw ticks, but I don’t answer. Instead, I shove my hands deeper in my pockets and sidestep her, stalking toward my office. But irritation slowly climbs my nerves when her voice stops me.
“Tell me, what did you do that for?” she drawls, and I don’t miss the edge of taunt in her voice. “To feel alive? Powerful? To show that you’re a man who’ll make good on his baseless threats?”
My feet come to a halt. I sharply pivot toward her, my nostrils flaring. “Leave. Now.”
Instead, she stands her ground. “We both know I don’t do well with commands.”
Growling darkly, I take a daunting step toward her, letting my shadow fall over her small frame. “That was a warning.”
Her gaze on mine falters as silence descends on the space. I half expect her to back off and drop it, but she stretches her head forward and shoots me a narrowed gaze. “Then I should reaffirm that I don’t do well with warnings.”
Foolish words from a foolish girl. “I swear to God, Bell—”
“You think you’re some sort of god who controls the universe,” she interrupts with a scoff, “but a man that preys on the weak is no better than a coward.”
Her words scratch at my spine. The way she says it with such audacity, like she’s unaware of the danger she’s playing with, drives me damn near to the edge.
I grit my teeth and, in a blink, slam her back into the wall, my fist clenching around her slender throat.
“Watch your mouth, little wife. God shows mercy, I don’t.” My voice comes out low and gritty.
Her breaths quake, eyes glinting with tears, but she doesn’t shut it. “You’re a monster,” she spits with venom.
A low, dry chuckle escapes my lips. “Monster? You wish, Princess.” Then my voice reduces to a deadly whisper as I bare my teeth in a snarl, “Monsters end your suffering, but me? I’ll make you beg for it.”
Her lips part to release a strained whimper, and somehow that draws a twisted smile from my face.
“You belong to the devil now, Bella.” I catch the tear strolling down her cheek with my thumb. “Every scream… every tear… every breath you take feeds me. And I’ll make sure all of hell bends to watch you break for me.”