Snapping Point||Book 1

51.

Romano De Rossi

As a dozen scenarios raced through my mind, only one seemed plausible: breaking Lorenzi to the point where he'd willingly renounce his position in the Family.

After my father's assault was halted by Amato, he wiped his hands on his shirt, his gaze piercing into Lorenzi with lingering fury vivid in his clenched fists.

"Who's this?" My father nodded toward the deceased cook.

"One of the few who knew about the affair," I replied, feigning as if that had been my motive for shooting her.

My father whirled around, fixing me with a steely gaze. "And where the hell is Luciana?"

"She's at her father's. Leaving for Sicily tomorrow," I replied smoothly.

I'd made sure Luciana was far from this mess, sparing her the humiliation of standing before them and explaining why she'd chosen to seek solace elsewhere. Not that her excuse of my infidelity would hold much weight in this gathering, but I had no desire to see her stripped of her dignity, not entirely, at least.

My gaze fixated on Lorenzi's swollen lip, longing to witness even a flicker of agony. Instead, all I saw was regret, piled on thick. "I can't stand by the family while also having to watch my back because Lorenzi's off somewhere with my beloved wife."

Lorenzi's words seemed to choke in his throat, his eyes speaking volumes beyond what he could articulate. "You're a real piece of work, an actor, you son of gun!" A very talented one at that. "Why the hell is he pretending to be in love with her?"

"That ain't your damn concern!" Ottavio cut in, his disdain thicker than tar, outshining even my own. "Whatever goes on in their marriage is not for you to dissect!"

"Let him dare say that again, and I'll turn him into ash!" My father surged forward, fists clenched and ready. But Ottavio stepped in, wedging himself between them, shielding Lorenzi from harm. Now locked in my gaze, Lorenzi met my sinister smirk—a wordless declaration of his complete surrender.

To suggest I was going to unveil Amato's attempt on my life tonight would be a farce. No, I was saving that little gem for another occasion. An occasion with Morelli in attendance. If I didn't systematically dismantle every pillar of the Martini family, then I wasn't the feared Romano De Rossi everyone trembled before. Tonight belonged to Lorenzi, but tomorrow night might just belong to Amato. And if Verde dared to oppose my plans in hopes to preserve his tiny family, he'd find himself cast as the sacrificial lamb before long.

Ottavio's low whispers guided Lorenzi away from the group's scrutiny. Meanwhile, Amato's grimace deepened as he seized a glass of whiskey, draining half of it in a single gulp. He exhaled sharply.  It was glaring he knew of his son's grave mistake—hence the transition from curses to controlled breaths of simmering rage and frustration. They had set the rules, and now they were forced to confront the violation committed by one of their own. The consequences had to be upheld, nonetheless, to maintain their authority.

"I won't have him and my wife sharing the same space," I stated firmly, making my intentions crystal clear. "I don't trust him. He's gotta go."

"Damn bastard," Amato cursed under his breath. He moved forward with purpose, then halted abruptly, a deep sigh escaping him. He realized his options were limited with my father standing nearby, and his son's actions looming over us like a plume of smoke.

He and my father might have jointly decided to assault a girl and killed her, but when it came down to it, Amato knew his fucking place. He was Morelli's adviser, might not be my father's if he became Don—nothing could ever make him lose his manners before Rossi, not in the period that his son had disgraced his name.