DANTE'S POV
Inside the grand hall, I sat at the head of the table with a glass of whiskey in my hand. A few of my men lined the walls, silent and unmoving.
Vito stood behind me, a shadow I trusted more than the cross on the cathedral’s altar. He had just briefed me on the actual reason behind the missing shipments of the Colombians.
I was mad. Livid.
I had done a lot these past few days, just to fix the business relationship between we and the Colombians.
Trust was tampered with already, and it was a stain on my reputation.
As soon as my footmen pulled open the doors, the very person I had expected, walked in with his men in tow.
Alejandro Vargas.
The consigliere of the Marcolinis. A man with enough sense to recognize when his house was on fire.
“Don Ferrari.” Alejandro dipped
