Stolen Dove: Stolen Hearts Series Blake, Carina (e reader books .txt) 📖

her life difficult for no other reason than he could. He showed no loyalty to the woman who was supposed to be his queen. He betrayed her at every turn, and I can’t say that I’m surprised by his lack of concern, but I do wonder if there’s more going on.

He laughs and then shrugs. “This is why you interrupted me? She left me, so why the hell should I give a fuck that she was run off the road? Frankly, they didn’t do a good enough job.”

“Are you telling me you set this up?” My calm tone belies the seething rage amplifying by the second. Does he have no idea how much my mother means to me? The crazy son of a bitch has just signed his death certificate while being none the wiser.

“No one makes me look stupid.” Nope. He’s a clueless idiot.

“Too late. You’ve done that shit on your own. You’re weak, caving to the Sicilians just so you can get your rocks off,” I practically spit out in absolute disgust, which he fucking scoffs away.

He waves his hand dismissively as if Benito’s life meant nothing. “Losing one guy isn’t enough to go to war with them. They’ve got enforcements in the States and Sicily.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t come in to find you taking it up the ass by one of them, you fucking coward.”

“Who the fuck are you to question me?” he roars, trying to intimidate me, which is futile because this man doesn’t inspire an ounce of fear in me.

“I’m the head of the Serrano family,” I inform him.

He chuckles. “You’ll have to pry it from my cold hands.” I’ve heard enough. I pull out my Sig Sauer and pop off one shot to his head. He flops down face first, hitting his desk and then bouncing to the floor with his pants still down. A smirk spreads over my face as the rush of satisfaction comes over me. He taught me how to kill and never let the enemy see weakness. Lesson learned.

Fernando rushes in, and Benito Jr. and Gustavo follow with their guns out. Seeing the scene before them, they put them away. “El rey esta muerto. ¡Larga vida al rey!” Benito Jr. shouts.

“¡Que viva el rey!” Fernando and Gustavo cheer together.

“Dispose of this wretch. I have work to do.”

“With pleasure. Forever in your debt.”

“Viva la Casa de Serrano!” I roar.

“Serrano!” They cheer. It’s time to clean house, and I will.

“We have another visit to make.” We have to finish this morning’s business with my half brother’s bitch-ass errand boy.

"Where the fuck is the rest of the staff?" I ask as I walk around the first floor of the house to determine how much I'm going to have to upgrade. Luckily, that prick didn't get a hold of my money or I'd have to kill him again. There are some things I can sell, but most of this shit is outdated and worthless. It'll just end up in the trash.

"Most of them left when your father refused to pay them." I've been going over the books for the winery, and it's not doing terribly. We'll need more branding and a fuckton of marketing to bring it back to how it was when I left. My grandfather would be turning over in his grave to see his own grandparents' vineyard in its current state.

"Refused to pay them?" It's not hard to see that he's been short on funds, but where is the money going? I'm guessing the Italians.

"Yeah—the cook, the landscaper, even the new housekeeper booked it. That one in there earlier was vying for the position." The only position she was shooting for was the one on her knees.

"I want this house renovated, and I'll be doing the hiring. "Felipe, make a note of everything we need to do to this place and what staff I can hire. At this point, I'll only need a housekeeper and cook and weekly grounds work. Get me a list of viable candidates, and none like that dumb broad that just left. I'm not looking to continue the cesspool going on. We'll be back this evening to go over everything." We shake on it, and Fernando and I get back in the SUV to deal with poor, foolish Oscar.

We make it to the warehouse in record time across town as I change into a pair of disposable pants and a tee shirt. I don't need to ruin a good suit. When I slam the door open, my men smile and my enemy shrieks like a little girl. "What a greeting. Men, you can wait outside. It's about to get messy."

I stare at the little fuck who tried to kill me this morning. His feet and hands are bound as he sits in a chair, pissing himself. I need to remind myself to redo this property for proper ventilation and drainage. He's scared, and he should be because he picked a fight with Satan himself, and I don't give second chances. "So tell me, Oscar." I pause, running the dull side of my knife under my chin, prolonging this moment. I want him ready to beg before I kill him. His legs shake with the little movement they are allowed, but it's the pooling puddle under his seat that brings a smirk to my face. "What the fuck possessed you to put a bomb in my motherfucking ride?"

"The boss told me to," he blurts out.

"Which boss—my father, or my stepbrother?"

"Your father. Julio doesn't have control yet." I don't believe it, or at least there's more to the story. So there's a push from my stepbrother to take my father's spot. It's not that I didn't already see that coming, but I'm not going to let that little bitch get anywhere near the Serrano name. My family built the vineyard. That pussy's not taking that from me, no matter what he believes.

"Why would my father want me dead?" That's not something that makes sense unless his resentment has