“I hope we will continue to work together, Mr. Benedetti,” he said, extending his hand. “I look forward to being of service to the son of my friend.”

Friend. Funny. But he was loyal. I extended my hand and shook his.

“Thank you, Mr. Marino. I’ll be in touch soon.”

He glanced once at Roman, then, without acknowledgment, moved toward the door, shook hands with Salvatore, and left.

“Make sure the house is cleared of guests,” I told one of the men, my gaze falling on Roman.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want Gia in here.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Salvatore asked.

“Get her for me, brother.”

Salvatore’s disapproval clear on his face, he walked out the door and returned a few moments later with Gia at his side.

She looked at the assembled men, her face betraying no emotion to those who did not know her. But I knew her. And I felt it coming off her.

She stood at the wall near the door by Salvatore’s side.

I opened my father’s top right-hand desk drawer. I’d been through it before, a hundred times, and I knew where he kept his pistol. Taking it out, I stood. I found the silencer deeper in the drawer and attached it to the barrel of the gun. I did this with a strange sense of calm, of peace. Like finally, for the first fucking time in my life, it was right. I was right.

Salvatore questioning whether bringing Gia in here was a good idea was a valid one, but she needed to see this. She needed to see justice for her brother, for herself. But she also needed to see me for who I was. I was not good. I would never be good. She needed to have no reservations, no hopes, no illusions. That last part, it was strange, but I knew who I was now. The clarity of it, of all of it, was undeniable. And Gia was part of that clarity. I knew what I wanted, and she was it. But I owed her truth, and what she’d witness today would be an absolute truth.

“Dominic—”

Roman started talking when I moved to the side of the desk and stood leaning against it, facing him.

“Silence, Uncle.”

The guard behind him placed his hand back on Roman’s shoulder.

Power. Fuck. A surge of it pumped blood through my veins.

“You hired Jake Sapienti to assassinate Sergio.”

Roman flinched.

“Did he know who Sergio was? Did he know the mark?”

It took Roman a moment, but the cocking of my gun got his lips moving. “No. He only knew the license plate of the car. He felt…remorse…when he found out who he’d killed.”