2. Vinnie

2

VINNIE

T he weight of the world presses down on my shoulders as I sit in my grandfather's office in an Austin skyscraper. It's different from his study at his home, where the room is heavy with the scent of leather and old books and the walls are lined with the faces of my ancestors, their stern eyes watching me, judging me. I can almost hear their whispers, feel their expectations.

This office is sleek and modern. Polished glass walls overlook an expanse of cityscape, the hum of Austin's daily grind a white noise that filters through the silence. The floor is made of polished white marble, and a handful of abstract art deco paintings adorn the inner walls. The furniture is minimalist. A small table and chairs next to a small wet bar, and a mahogany desk crowning the room, the only nod toward tradition in an otherwise futuristic space. Across from the desk are two red plush wingback chairs.

I can't feel the judgmental gazes of my ancestors here. There are no prodding eyes carved into age-old oil portraits, no oppressive atmosphere of legacy. There are a handful of framed portraits of the family—though my father is noticeably absent from all of them—on the desk, but they face my grandfather, not me. The only face I see is the stoic one in front of me.

The face of the man I've come to know as evil incarnate.

This isn't the life I wanted. I escaped it for over a decade, lost a brother and nearly a sister in the process. Watched my father go to prison for murdering Miles McAllister, the son of a rival family here in Texas.

And now?

This is the life I've been handed.

The life I came back to.

Willingly.

I had my reasons.

Mario Bianchi sits behind his desk, his gaze stern as he glares at me. He's a hard man, ruthless and feared by many, including the McAllister family.

"I'm happy you've returned, Vincent," he says. "I know you'll make me proud of you."

Right. I know my grandfather better than to take his words at face value. I fled to Europe after he showed me his true colors the year I turned eighteen. For him to be proud of me? To trust me?

I'm going to have to prove myself.

And it won't be pretty.

I glance over my grandfather's head and out the window at the city of Austin sprawling below, alive with its own pulse. I used to dream of a different life, one far away from the shadow of this family business. I left the country to make it happen, but I learned only that I am what my family made me.

Those dreams seem like distant memories now, replaced by the stark reality of what I must do.

My mother and sister are everything to me. Savannah is engaged to Falcon Bellamy, the son of a billionaire Texas rancher. Falcon's an ex-con, and he's strong and resilient. I watched him stay alert after several of my grandfather's henchmen pummeled the shit out of him. Miles McAllister, who wanted—no, that's not the right word. Was being forced—to marry Savannah, had a gun pointed to Falcon's head when my father, Vincent Gallo Senior, shot Miles before he could take Falcon out.

But Falcon was ready to go. He'd do anything for Savannah. That's how I know she's protected.

My mother, on the other hand…

With Dad now incarcerated, she's my responsibility. And she's a mess. She blames Savannah for everything, but she'll see reason eventually. She's an intelligent woman.

I stand, showing Grandfather my full height. I'm several inches taller than he is and a lot more muscular. Plus he's in his eighties.

"I'm willing to do what needs to be done," I say, burning my gaze into his, "but let's stop beating around the bush. I know what you expect of me. And if you think you're going to shove anything up my ass like you did when I was a kid, think again. I'll do what has to be done, but I won't be abused."

Grandfather shakes his head with a chuckle. "You think I was abusing you? You think I did anything to you that wasn't done to me?"

"Then you're a victim as much as I am," I say. "I won't run this family that way. I won't abuse people into obedience. People will do my bidding because they respect me. Not because I hurt them."

Grandfather narrows his eyes. "So if I tell you that you have to violate an up-and-coming young man in the family, you will refuse?"

"I will absolutely refuse, Grandfather." I grit my teeth. "You want me to be back. I'm back. The first son of your only child. I'm here to do my duty, but if you expect me to run this family when you're gone, I'm going to do it my way."

Grandfather scowls. "Don't be an idiot, Vincent. You think you can command respect without having your men fear you?"

"I don't have to fucking rape them to get them to fear me."

He slams his hands on his desk, scattering several documents to the floor. "Why don't you ask your brother-in-law, Falcon Bellamy, about how many prisoners he fucked while he was in the slammer?"

I draw a breath and count to ten. I know my brother-in-law. I know he didn't do anything like that. In fact, he protected his men from it. He ruled his cell block the same way I'll rule this family. Through strength. Perceived strength.

"Say what you want about Falcon," I say. "I know the truth."

"You don't think he got his rocks off with any of those pretty boys?" A small grin cracks under his stony stare. "Surely you're not that ignorant."

"I'm not ignorant," I say. "Let me tell you this, Grandfather. The next time you violate anyone—and I mean anyone —I'll fucking murder you in your sleep."

He laughs then—a deep guttural laugh. "Damn, Vinnie. You might just have what it takes after all."

He has no fucking idea. "Just get on with it. Tell me what I have to do to prove myself so you'll step down. Who do I have to off?"

He laughs again. "You think it's that simple?"

"Tell me, then." I slowly sink into one of the chairs across his desk. "I admit I've been away for a long time. Tell me what I have to do to gain your trust and take over. As long as it doesn't entail shoving anything up anyone's ass, I'll do it."

"What if I tell you to kill someone?'

This time I laugh. How na?ve does he think I am? Of course he's going to tell me to kill someone. I expected that. All I need to know is who. A fucking name.

"Something funny?" he asks.

" You are. Who do you think you're talking to, old man? I may have been gone for over a decade, but I know how this shit works."

"Call it shit again, and I'll give it back to your father."

"You think he can run a family from prison?"

"He doesn't need to stay in prison. I can have him out by tomorrow if I want to."

I have no doubt that he's telling the truth. My father killed Miles McAllister to save Falcon for Savannah. I never knew the depth of love my father had for his children until I saw him do that. Too bad he couldn't have offed Mario here and saved Michael and me as well.

I hate thinking about Michael, or Mikey, as Sav and I used to call him. He was a kind and gentle soul, and I blame myself for his death. I was a kid of eighteen when I got the fuck out of here. I didn't think about my younger brother, didn't think about the fact that he was next in line.

Didn't think about what Grandfather would do to him. The same thing he did to me.

I fled.

And during all that time, there wasn't a minute that went by that my guilt didn't consume me.

"Don't insult my intelligence," I say. "You're just as glad to have my father in prison. He was a placeholder, and you and I both know it. I'm back now. I'm the true heir to this damned throne of yours, so tell me what I need to do. Quit beating around the bush. I want to get on with it."

"How much do you love your sister?" he asks.

"More than you'll ever know."

"You underestimate me, Vincent." He takes a deep breath in, tenting his fingers. "You think that because of what I do, I have no love for my family. That's simply not true."

"Raping me with a billy club was your way of showing love?" I scoff.

He doesn't react. "Yes, in my way."

"Bullshit." I get back on my feet. "You were exerting power over me. Showing me violence."

Grandfather shrugs. "That's what makes you strong."

"I disagree. Look at Mikey."

He frowns. "He was weak."

"He was what you made him. You forced him into a marriage he didn't want. Just like you're forcing me." I feel nausea curling up my throat, but I force it down. "My only consolation is that my intended is only eleven years old, so at least I don't have to marry her this second."

"True. You've got seven years to sow your wild oats, Vincent." He gazes out the window onto the bustling streets of Austin. "Unless you sowed them all out of the country."

"I sowed plenty," I say. "Once I'm married, I will be faithful to my wife."

Grandfather scoffs again. "No one is ever faithful to his wife."

"I'm sure you weren't."

"Of course I wasn't. Neither was your esteemed father."

He may be right. I don't know. My mother and father's marriage was arranged. He may well have been unfaithful to her. But one thing I do know. Despite the fact that he allowed Grandfather to violate me and probably Mikey, and despite the fact that he was going to force Savannah into marriage to Miles McAllister, he does love his children. All three of us. Of that I'm certain.

"I don't give a shit whether my father was faithful or not. Just tell me who I have to kill. Let's get it over with."

Grandfather nods. He gathers a few documents off his desk and stacks them neatly. "I've given this some thought," he says. "And I have unfinished business with your brother-in-law, Falcon Bellamy."

I shake my head. "Oh, no. I will not kill my sister's future husband. This isn't a damned movie and I'm not Michael Corleone."

"I want to see Savannah happy as much as you do. I know you don't believe this, but I love all of my grandchildren." He picks up a framed photo from the corner of his desk and studies it. "No one was sadder to see Michael die."

I resist rolling my eyes. "If not Falcon, then who?"

"Someone that will hurt him. One of his siblings, I think." He puts the photo down and strokes his chin. "Perhaps the one he just saved from her cancer. Raven Bellamy."