Nestore's POV
"Mr. Cavarallo," my right-hand man called a small attempt to calm the rage still burning in me.
I didn’t slow down. "Get the car ready in an hour. We’re going to the West Port. And find someone to clean all of this up," I muttered, stepping over the shattered pieces of the phone as I walked past him toward my room.
"Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Cavarallo?" he asked quickly, falling in step behind me. "There’s been some underlying issues at the West Port... reports of the men stealing. Should I have the others ready?"
I paused briefly at the foot of the staircase, my jaw tightening.
"Have them on standby," I said coldly. "I'll let them handle it—after I'm done with them."
He gave a sharp nod and peeled off toward the maids' quarters to handle the cleanup
