Dante's POV
"Salvatore," I said, not knowing what excuse to give him.
"My office. Now," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes glaring daggers at me.
"Can I just—"
"No." He snapped and started walking toward his office, expecting me to follow his lead. I did, because I didn’t exactly have a choice.
Salvatore was my father's consigliere. He had an upper hand in these kinds of situations, and he could get away with a lot of things, although I didn’t think he could get away with murdering me.
But he did have some form of authority, and I respected him — not because of his position in the family, but because he was a key aspect of my training while I was growing up. He wasn’t tough and ruthless like my dad and every trainer sent my way. He was quiet and calculative, and he wanted me to
