I take my weapon out of its shoulder holster and hand it to one of my men, then let the two pat me down. One is already alerting Sonny we’re on our way as the other rides up with me. I stare straight ahead barely seeing my own face in the reflection of the gold-tinted mirror on the doors.

When we arrive on the top floor, the doors slide open, and two more men are waiting at the entrance to Sonny’s apartment. It’s one of two on this floor.

“He’s clean,” the man who rode up with me says as the other two stand aside, and I enter. Another soldier acknowledges me with a nod and escorts me toward Sonny’s office, set in the farthest room down the corridor. Once we reach the door, he opens it and steps aside to let me enter. My uncle, his face still bruised, the swelling around his eye not quite completely gone, sits in the center of the leather sofa, looking fucking ecstatic as he leans back and folds his arms across his chest. Two men stand nearby.

“Nephew,” he says in that grating way he has.

“Where is my wife?”

“How the fuck would I know?” His smug grin tells me he does know. He looks me over. “You look a little worse for wear.”

I’m sure I do. I barely slept on the flight back and am wearing the same clothes. But I could give a fuck. I reach into the breast pocket of my suit jacket, and Sonny’s expression changes quickly as his men step forward, drawing their weapons.

I ignore them, take out the older model phone, and scroll to what I need.

They relax.

“You need me to buy you a new phone, nephew? That looks like it’s from the last century.”

“Not quite but it is old,” I tell him. “The Reaper only had one use for it.”

My uncle’s face pales as he glances at his soldiers.

“My wife,” I say.

He looks at me with such contempt, it’s a palpable thing.

“As with the earlier attack on her, it wasn’t me. You’d do better to spend your time tracking down the brother. I hear he flew in recently.”

I make sure he can’t see any change in my expression, but I am fucking surprised. Lucien is in Italy?

“So you had nothing to do with the attack at the villa,” I say more a comment than a question and he shakes his head with that too-smug grin on his too-smug face. He’s lying. And he wants me to know it. That’s why mom wasn’t hurt. That was his calling card.

“Even if I did, I am the rightful heir.”

“This isn’t a fucking kingdom.”

“The family would support me.”