Chapter 65 Upperhand

• VINCENT
• “Save your breath, St. James,” I told my guest as I strode into the underground cellar of my home in Tuscany and heard him screaming for help. “You know this works.” He’d spent the night immersed in a giant oak barrel, his hands tied behind his back, and yes, it was filled with wine. Did I mention it was cold? Both the weather and the dim wine cellar. “No one is going to come save you. Everyone here is loyal to me, and before we left Mykonos, we marinated three of your guys in acid, fizzing and hissing as they dissolved into smoking mush. It was nice to watch, but enough of that.” I grinned dangerously and rubbed my hands together. “Let’s focus on you, sì?”
• “Kill me! Just get it over with, Marchetti.” His teeth chattered and his body trembled. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You’re just as heartless as your father.”