Chapter 3
Brennan lay groaning on the floorboards, spitting dark crimson onto the Persian runner, clutching his fractured jaw with trembling hands. He looked up at his older brother through swollen, dazed eyes, the arrogant swagger completely shattered.
Lavinia pressed her back against the mirrored credenza, her hands clawing into the mahogany trim behind her. Her diamonds shivered against her collarbones.
“Cassian, please, listen to reason,” she pleaded, her American accent cracking into a shrill, breathless pitch. “Brennan was just trying to keep order! Your mother was wandering the halls at night, screaming about the old days, scaring the domestic staff! We had to contain her for her own safety!”
Cassian didn't look at her. He reached into his breast pocket, withdrew a crisp linen handkerchief, and methodically wiped his bruised knuckles. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely devoid of wasted energy.
“A leash, Lavinia?” Cassian murmured, his voice a quiet, lethal rumble. “You contained the woman who built the foundation of this syndicate with a dog leash?”
“It was a joke!” she shrieked, tears of sheer panic finally ruining her mascara. “A momentary lapse in judgment! I swear to God, Cassian, I was just frustrated!”
A heavy knock sounded from the main foyer.
The double mahogany doors swung inward, and two towering Morretti enforcers in dark tailored suits stepped inside. The lead soldier, Frank, held a massive, crocodile-skin designer suitcase in his right hand, alongside a matching leather carry-on. Both bags bore Lavinia’s gold-embossed initials.
Frank walked into the dining room, his boots clicking in steady cadence, and dropped the heavy luggage directly at Lavinia’s feet with a loud, hollow thud.
Lavinia looked down at her packed bags, the breath tearing from her lungs as if she had been plunged into icy water.
Cassian stepped forward, his leather shoes coming to a halt inches from the luggage. He reached out with the tip of his shoe and tipped the suitcase onto its side.
“You packed three hours before my flight was scheduled to touch down,” Cassian said, every syllable dropping like an anvil. “You had a charter flight booked out of Teterboro for ten tonight, destination Zurich. You and my loyal capo brother.”
Brennan pushed himself onto his elbows, coughing blood. “Cassian… no… it wasn't like that. We were just moving assets to protect them from the federal grand jury—”
“Shut up, Brennan,” Cassian commanded without looking down.
The younger brother choked on his words, shrinking back against the floor.
Cassian turned his slate-gray eyes onto his wife. He reached down, took her by the chin, and tilted her face toward the bright ceiling lights. His grip was immovable, an iron vise holding a porcelain doll.
“You leashed my mother,” Cassian whispered, his controlled pauses stretching like garrote wire across her throat. “Now that rope will stay around your neck… forever.”
Lavinia’s knees buckled, but Cassian’s hand held her upright. “What are you going to do to me? Cassian, I’m your wife! You took vows before the church!”
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“The church recognizes a marriage, Lavinia,” Cassian replied, releasing her chin with a flick of his wrist that sent her staggering back against the mirror. “The Morretti syndicate recognizes loyalty. You have neither.”
He turned to the lead enforcer. “Frank. Take Brennan to the sub-level armory. Strip his phone, his signet ring, and his family pin. If he speaks a single word, break his other jaw.”
