The Heir

Chapter 39

I need to turn my brain off. There's too much rattling around up there. The fact that, despite passing all of the tests, my father will not even consider me as his heir. Or the news that Will is directly affiliated with the Irish mob. But the worst of it all is Rome.

So I do what I always do when I need to stop thinking. I go to the studio, lace up my shoes, and dance. Hoping that time will go away once I'm in the zone. Stretching, dancing, leaps and turns. I focus solely on the music and the matching steps.

I don't want to have to consider the offer Rome gave me. The fact that he wants to do what my father refuses: teach me. Teach me to run an empire with the kind of ruthlessness and authority that is necessary in the underworld.

He wants to have me call the shots, even with his own men. To command the respect that I deserve as the oldest DiSilva sibling. And to fake sleeping with him the whole time.

It's messy, to mix business with pleasure, and I know that. But he's the only person offering to help me. The only person willing to stick their neck out to train me. To ensure my spot at the top.

He's smart and calculated; tracking me down is not something to laugh at. I was registered at Montrose using not only a fake name but a fake social security number as well. There shouldn't have been any overlap for anyone to find. But he managed anyway.

He's clever and witty; able to keep up with the banter and snark I offer. He's careful with his words, just like I am, which only makes it more fun.

I believe him when he says he wants to help me. It makes sense for him to want me in charge in favor of my father or even my brother. And what he said the other day is all completely true; being a fighter and a leader is how I was raised. It's in my blood.

My only hesitation is his method, his plan. To date, even fraudulently, in order to goad my father. He already told his men to spread the word and I can only pray it doesn't reach my father until I'm ready.

I've decided that I'm going to do it; I'm going to accept his offer. I'll start the rest of my training once we all get back to Switzerland hidden under the veil of the internship. And we can date, for the sake of keeping boys off my back and ensuring his men's cooperation, but it needs to be a gilded image we maintain.

His first lesson for me was beyond helpful. Sure, it was bloody and a bit gory, but that's the stuff I need to be exposed to. That's the stuff I need to learn how to do. Knowing that using knives risks them dying sooner. Or that waterboarding is much simpler than I thought.

That's all useful, practical information. I honestly can't wait to see what else he wants to teach me.

The playlist ends and I take a deep breath. I cross the room, grab my water bottle, and chug. I have no idea how long I've been in here but dancing did little to quiet my thoughts today.

"Ciao," Enzo appears in the doorway.

I keep my back to him but track his movements in the mirror, "what's up?"

He takes a tentative step inside, "can we talk?"

"About?" I sit down in front of the mirror and start to stretch again.

"Everything," he sighs. I watch his reflection get closer and closer until he sits beside me on the floor.

"I'm all ears," I tell him, changing positions.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. "About everything. All the fighting and being an asshole and telling Duke, it was immature and stupid."

I quirk a brow, "did you just talk to Dad?"