Dominic: The Prince by Fields M. J

Author:Fields, M. J. [Fields, M. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Suspense, Romance
ISBN: 9781958804407
Amazon: B00SE490A0
Goodreads: 24556729
Publisher: Blue Valley Publishing LLC
Published: 2015-01-17T08:00:00+00:00

It still blew my mind that we, together as a family, pulled this off in a week. Abe was able to give DeLuca Italy, access to five of Steel USA’s accounts, giving access to DeLuca to put money from the sale of drugs and prostitutes into Steel USA. Then, within twenty-four hours, it was sent from Steel USA’s account to Italy and on to the account in the name of Angelina Santario, Jules daughter, one of Benito’s fake business fronts, and to top it off, money was also paid to Efisto himself. The exact amount that went in, came out. Six separate transactions went in; the very day we leaked the info to the men who had been hired when Benito took over his father’s position as CEO of Deluca.

The beauty in this was, Benito and Efisto owned a few properties and clubs together. At the same time the club was raided in the US, Italian authorities were making arrests in Italy.

When I left Laney sleeping in bed, I went to the police station to look at the man who had taken my rightful position in my family’s business. The man who consistently made my sister and I feel like we were dirt, compared to Grandma Isabella’s husband, Anthony Deluca’s golden boy, Benito DeLuca.

“You look good in orange.”

“You fuck my wife, and then fuck me?”

“Well, you know, I figured an even exchange for the fucking you tried to give my fourteen-year-old sister, and the fucking you gave us when she wouldn’t put out to an insignificant, little piece of shit, bottom dweller like you, Benito.”

“It won’t stick, you can’t prove anything.”

“Do you think American authorities make it a habit of arresting innocent Italian businessmen?”

“My lawyers will tear you apart.”

“I hope you’ve stashed enough money to pay for your own lawyer. DeLuca will not be funding you anymore. As a matter-of-fact, DeLuca will not be funding anyone. You enjoy your next six to ten years in prison. I hear they serve gourmet food and all the ass you want.”

“You will pay,” he hissed.

“No motherfucker, I paid, in advance, for the hell I am gonna cause you.”

“When I get out--”

“You’ll be serving more time in Italy.”

I went to visit Sabato, too. He was not in an orange jumpsuit. “You okay?”

“I shot the --”

“Shh, don’t say a fucking word.”

“He alive?” He asked, looking at the floor.

“Yes. But not good.”

“I hope he rots.”

“You can’t say things like that, not here.”

“He tried to kill me. I turned the gun. They have nothing. They saw everything.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I refused when asked questions. They were treating me like a criminal because of my club. I told them to piss off, then told them I wish he would die.”

“Jesus, Sabato.”

“No. Jesus forgives, Dominic, I do not.”

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