Chapter 3

I picked up the stack of bills and slowly flipped through them.

"This is interesting."

"Roxy, do you know what these numbers represent?"

She frowned, clearly not expecting me to be this calm. "What do you mean?"

"These are standard street prices." I threw the bills back on the desk. "But at those places, my name alone gets thirty percent off the mob protection fees."

The corners of Roxy's mouth stiffened for a second, but she quickly recovered. "So what? You still broke the rules."

"So," I kept staring into her eyes and continued. "For a fee priced at six hundred grand, I only paid four hundred to smooth things over. And now you want me to cough up the full amount?"

The big guy holding the submachine gun next to her couldn't help but mutter. "That's true. If the fee was waived just out of respect for her..."

"Shut up!" Roxy cut him off sharply, then turned to glare at me. "Katerina, don't play those games with me. The fact is you pocketed the crew's money. All that talk about your family's respect is your own business. It has nothing to do with us."

I looked up at her, my eyes turning cold.

"You mean to say that me saving the crew cold hard cash is now a death sentence?"

"Exactly!" Roxy said smugly. "And since you admitted to using your connections, it proves those routes belong to the crew now. You have to hand over these routes too, to pay off your debt."

"Also, all your smuggling shipments and turf patrols must be approved by me, the new club manager. After all, the crew needs someone to keep a close eye on you."

New manager?

I almost laughed out loud.

Putting a little secretary who had only been around for three months into the club manager seat. Declan really went all out just to kick me down.

"Fine." I picked up a pen and signed my name at the bottom of the ledger. "As you wish."

Roxy clearly didn't expect me to be so easygoing.

She froze for half a second, then snatched the book away. "Good. Seems like you still know what's good for you."

She looked around my office. Her eyes lingered on my black Italian leather sofa and the antique hunting rifle on the wall.

"Oh, one more thing," she said smugly. "You need to get the hell out of this office."

"What did you say?"

"Declan just decided to give this room to me. After all, as the new manager of the club, I deserve a proper workspace."

"As for you, you're just a washed-up nobody waiting for your punishment. Go collect protection money at that broken-down corner pub downstairs. That's good enough for you."

I couldn't be bothered to argue with her over something so petty. I would just let her enjoy her fantasy for a few more days.

I swept a few personal items into my handbag and walked out without looking back.

Then, I dialed my family consigliere Vincenzo on a secure line.

"Vincenzo, get the original deed to the club building ready. I want to claim my ownership and take it back. If the thugs inside refuse to leave, how fast can the family lawyers and fixers clear the place out?"

"Proof? I have it all. Every mob contract, the trail of every dirty dollar, and the recording of them plotting to seize power. I kept copies of everything."

Vincenzo's voice was calm and certain. "Principessa, the deed to this building is fully protected by the family's lawyers. If anyone dares to occupy it, the family can clear them out within three hours."

After hanging up, I pulled a yellowing manila folder out of my bag.

It was the deed to the club building. Under the owner section, my name was written plain as day.

Three years ago, I used my family's influence to buy this building. I did it to protect Declan's pathetic street ego and ease his money problems while he expanded his turf. Then I rented it to him as his crew's headquarters for a steal at thirty grand a month.

But for this block and a spot this size, the real rent would be at least three hundred grand a month.

I still remember the day we signed the lease. Declan held up a glass of bourbon, smiling like a kid who just got candy. "Katerina, we got so fucking lucky to score this building on this street."

I just smiled back then, raised my glass, and clinked it against his. "Yeah, pretty lucky."

Looking back now, I was pitifully stupid.

Roxy's excited voice came from behind me. She was calling a construction crew, demanding that the whole office be renovated tonight.

Not long after, a few movers came out. They were carrying my custom Italian leather sofa and some decor.

"Just throw it in the alley! Nobody wants this junk anyway!"

I watched those carefully selected items get tossed carelessly at the end of the hallway.

Forget it. It didn't matter. I had no use for things that had been touched by dirty hands anyway.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

It was a new post from Roxy on the crew's chat.

I clicked on it. It was a selfie of her in my old office.

In the picture, she was holding a glass of pink champagne in one hand. Her other hand hooked around a brand-new diamond necklace.

The caption read, "New turf, new rules! Thanks to the Boss for the trust. Finally sitting in the big chair! #TasteOfPower #NewQueen #SmartPlay"

There were already a dozen likes below it. They were all kissing up to her from the same boys who were toasting me just last night.

I hit like with a blank face.

I hoped she liked that leather sofa. I really wanted to see how many days she could sit on it.