17

~Vincenzo~

“Zeta Mancini.”

I ended the call with Jade while committing the name she had mentioned to memory. It did not ring a bell. If truly she was an actress, then she was an insignificant, time-wasting one.

I picked up a glass tumbler from a waitress and drank the whiskey in one go. The burning sensation of the liquid teased my throat. I embraced it as well as the feeling of satisfaction and power that surged through my bones as I looked over at the dancing entwined bodies in the large room below.

I could end their fun. I could issue an order to declare the major chains of luxurious clubs in the city closed and they would have nowhere left to run wild.

Rotana was home to me. And now, with my father retired, and the Russo’s cartel under my fucking command, I would finally get to own the fucking city. Not my father. Not Lazarus Russo, but I, Vincenzo fucking Russo.

Marcel’s head bobbed in through the entrance. Like always, he looked impatient. I sat up in my chair, wondering why