Chapter four

ANTHONY

Lisa ran toward the Ferrari parked at the entrance of the party building, her heels striking against the pavement as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. I caught up with her and reached for her hands, but she immediately pulled away.

“Please, let me explain,” I said, frustration tightening my voice.

“You're a fucking asshole.” She glared at me, her eyes still wet. “Do not touch me.”

“But I'm sorry. It isn't what it looked like.”

“Then explain it to me.”

I opened my mouth, but the image of Brian standing beneath the party lights flashed through my mind again. “I was only trying to—”

“Save it,” she cut me off, climbing into the Ferrari.

I stood there for a moment before getting behind the wheel. The ride back to the villa was painfully quiet, and every time I glanced at the road, my thoughts somehow circled back to Brian.

I tightened my grip around the steering wheel. Why the hell was I thinking about him this much?

When we reached the villa, Lisa was out of the car before I had even removed the keys. She hurried inside without looking back at me, and I followed at a slower pace.

“Mom!”

Her voice carried through the foyer, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. I watched her throw her arms around my mother before burying her face against her shoulder.

My mother glanced over Lisa's head at me. I gave her a brief nod before heading upstairs.

“Anthony,” my father called.

I stopped halfway up the staircase and turned. He stood near the bottom, his expression unreadable.

“You will be going with the crew.”

I descended the remaining steps. “For what?”

He gave me a look that made the question unnecessary.

“The shipment.”

I nodded.

There were things discussed openly in our family and things that never needed to be named. Drugs were one of them.

“When?”

“Now.”

I glanced toward the foyer where my mother was still comforting Lisa. “Fine.”

My father stepped closer. “And Anthony?”

I looked at him.

“I expect you to handle yourself properly tonight,”

“I always do.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Then prove it.”

I left him standing there and returned upstairs. I changed into dark clothes, slipped my phone into my pocket, and headed back down.

My mother was waiting in the sitting room with Lisa. The moment Lisa saw me, she turned her face away.

I almost smiled.

“Anthony,” my mother said.

“Mom.”

“Sit.”

“I have somewhere to be.”

Her expression hardened. “You always have somewhere to be.”

I glanced at my watch. “I won't be long.”

Lisa crossed her arms. “He's probably going back to meet Brian.”

I stopped.

My mother looked between us. “Who is Brian?”

“No one,” I answered.

Lisa scoffed. “He's the guy I told you about.”

I looked at Lisa. “Can we not do this now?”

She rolled her eyes.

My mother sighed. “Enough. Your father and I have been discussing something important.”

I already knew I wasn't going to like where this was going.

“What?”

“You're twenty-six,” she said. “Your father and I think it's time you started thinking seriously about marriage.”

I stared at her.

“I'm not interested.”

“You didn't even let me finish.”

“I don't need to.”

Lisa's lips curved into a small smile. “Maybe Brian can be your date.”

“Lisa.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “You seem very interested in him.”

I ignored her.

My mother shook her head. “This isn't a joke. There are families willing to form an alliance with us, and your father believes marriage would strengthen certain relationships.”

“I don't need a wife to strengthen the family.”

“You will eventually inherit everything your father built,” she replied. “You need to start thinking like the man who will take his place.”

I looked toward the window, watching the security team moving across the entrance below.

The Vicenzo name had carried power for generations. Our businesses stretched across the city, our political connections reached farther than most people realized, and the people who knew what happened behind the family's polished image knew better than to challenge us.

I had grown up around men who carried weapons beneath tailored jackets and women who knew exactly when to keep their mouths shut. None of it had ever felt unusual to me.

But today, something felt different.

Brian.

My mother watched me carefully. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

She didn't look convinced.

I stood. “I'll deal with the marriage conversation when I get back.”

“Anthony—”

“I have work to handle.”

I walked away before she could argue.

Outside, one of the family's black SUVs was already waiting. Two of my father's men stood beside it, dressed in dark suits with their eyes constantly moving across the property.

“Boss,” one of them greeted.

I nodded and climbed into the vehicle.

The drive toward the waterfront was quiet. Streetlights passed across the windows while I checked my phone, expecting a message from my father.

Nothing.

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

For some reason, I saw Brian again.

His guarded expression.

The way he had looked at me when I called him a little pet.

The way his eyes had widened.

I opened my eyes.

Why had that affected him so much?

The vehicle eventually slowed near the private dock used by the family. A large vessel sat farther out on the dark water, its lights reflecting across the surface.

I stepped out, and the cold night air hit my face.

“Everything is ready,” one of the men said.

I looked toward the vessel.

“Who is handling the transfer?”

“Your father's crew.”

I nodded and started toward the waiting boat.

This was the part of my life outsiders never saw. No cameras, no parties, no expensive restaurants, and no headlines about the Vicenzo family.

Just business.

Once I stepped aboard, the crew straightened.

“Good evening, Boss.”

I gave them a brief nod. “Let's get this done.”

As the vessel moved away from the dock, I rested my hands against the railing and watched the city lights disappear behind us.

My father's empire had been built on power, fear, and secrets.

One day, all of it would be mine.

Yet tonight, with the dark water stretching endlessly ahead of me, I couldn't stop thinking about a poor medical student named Brian.

I was about to step below deck when one of the men hurried toward me, his expression suddenly tense.

“Boss, there's something you need to see.”

I turned toward him, my brows drawing together. “What is it?”

He pulled a photograph from inside his jacket and handed it to me.

The moment I looked at it, my fingers tightened around the edges.

It was a photograph of the house that had burned down six years ago.