Antonio - Ashlee Price Page 0,87

a collection worth billions of dollars?

"He's thought of alerting the authorities, of course, but he bought many of those paintings through us. You know what that means."

They were obtained illegally. Smuggled. Gellert is even stupider than I thought.

"Never mind the authorities, boss," Charlie, one of the more outspoken capi - and by outspoken, I mean someone who tries to kiss ass at every opportunity, leccaculo as Andrea would say - pipes in. "We'll get those paintings back."

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Orso declares. "Thanks to Frank, we now know that the Esposito family, which we haven't been on excellent terms with..."

That's putting it lightly.

"...is behind this and we have information on the locations where the paintings are being held. Tomorrow night, we are going to retrieve them, and at the same time, we are going to teach the Esposito family a lesson."

So this is war, then.

"It's about time!" Charlie cheers.

I can tell from the expressions on everyone's faces that they all agree. Bloodthirsty, all of them.

I remain quiet in my corner as the men in their chairs start to voice out their assents and plans, some in Italian, some in English, all heavy with excitement. They look like children who have just been given a new game to play.

Let them. I'm sure Orso has a different task for me or he wouldn't have summoned me here.

Right on cue, his gaze pins down mine. He nods and I walk towards him.

If I was any of the other men in this room, I'd be down on one knee in front of him pressing my lips to his ring. If we weren't in this room, he'd probably be hugging me, like he did when he first found out I'm the son of his wife. As things stand, I simply stand beside Orso and he puts his hand on my arm.

"You don't seem thrilled," he observes out loud.

I shrug. "You know me. I don't like politics."

Men bickering like children, trying to out-ass each other by any means necessary, all under the guise of noble intentions. What's there to like?

"This is war," Orso tells me.

I shake my head. "Don't like them, either."

Men sent to kill and die for another man's dream. Where's the fun in that?

Orso frowns. "Would it kill you to like something?"

"I like hunting," I say. "And I like you."

Truth, not ass kissing. I would never work for someone I don't like, regardless of whether or not my mother's in love with him. Orso may be a crime boss but he's an honorable man. He looks after his own, gives people what they are due, and keeps his word. No bullshit. I respect that.

Orso grins. "And here's what I'd like. One of the paintings, a Rembrandt, is at the home of Damien Esposito. Take it back. Give the stronzo my regards."

In other words, kill the asshole. Of course. Why else would he summon a killer like me?

"Got it," I answer.

Orso glances at Leo. "Take him with you."

Leo grins. I frown.

No fucking way.

"I'm an assassin, not a babysitter," I remind the crime boss.

Leo snorts. "Who are you calling a baby?"

"You," I tell him straight.

Leo's blue eyes narrow. "I'll be seventeen soon."

The number means squat. I've seen twelve-year-olds more adult than him.

"Do you know how to hold a gun?" I ask him.

"I know how to shoot one," he answers cockily.

Maybe, but I bet he couldn't shoot a bird down if he tried, much less blow a man's brains out.

"Andrea taught me," he adds.

I glance at the blond, pale-skinned bodyguard. He never mentioned that. Then again, he's probably the best person here at keeping secrets.

I look at Leo. Well, if that's true, he might have a chance of actually putting a bullet into someone. It doesn't mean he's ready, though.

I turn to Orso. "He's not ready."

"I was younger when I first tagged along in an operation," Orso answers.

And so was I when I first took someone's life, but we both know Leo wasn't brought up the same way.

"He will never be ready if we don't let him try," Orso adds.

"He doesn't have to," I point out.

"I want to," Leo argues.

I look at him. This is why he's still a child.

"And what does Monica think of this?" I ask him curiously.

"What Mama thinks doesn't matter," Leo answers. "Like I said, I'm almost seventeen."

Which means she doesn't approve. Neither do I.

"That doesn't mean you can just throw her away," I tell Leo.

He meets my gaze squarely. "Oh, like you did?"

I draw in a breath. Cheeky brat.