Bred by the Mafia Monster (Breeding Season Book 7), Sam Crescent [red white and royal blue hardcover .TXT] 📗

the exits, the security, and thought about the collateral damage—especially the ten-year-old guest of honor.

As the people ahead of them said their piece, they continued to move forward. Within minutes, it was Klaus’s turn to congratulate the Lastra family.

“Klaus Accardi. Welcome,” said Nicholas.

“Who is your guest?” asked Lastra, glaring at his date.

This charade would be tricky. No one was supposed to know Isabella was dead except her own father. Was Lastra expecting a grieving or vengeful husband? One thing for certain, Klaus couldn’t reveal the fact she was alive and well if their plan was to be successful.

Nicholas was probably in the dark about the crime. Klaus doubted Isabella’s father would share what he’d done with anyone. The Catholic church would castrate his family name if he’d signed his own daughter’s death warrant.

He was going to use all the information to his advantage. Firstly, pissing off Lastra by moving on from grieving at record speed.

“Veronica,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Where is Isabella?” asked Lastra, staring at him without blinking. The old bastard wanted him to admit her death publicly so he could shame Klaus. Not protecting your own house was the ultimate emasculation.

“She couldn’t make it.”

“Shame,” said Lastra. “No one has heard from her in some time.”

“I’m sure you’re very concerned.”

Lastra shrugged. “She’s married to an Accardi. A match made for peace. What could I be worried about?”

Klaus smirked. “I’m sure you have plenty to worry about. If not, you should.”

He took his date’s arm and led her into the banquet hall. His brother was having a drink at the bar, his eyes on the room. A few of his men mingled with the guests. The atmosphere was tense because he was surrounded by the enemy. Klaus grabbed two champagne flutes, passing one to Veronica.

She licked her lips, continually flirting with him. “Where are we going after the party?” she asked.

“I’m going home to my wife. I don’t know where the fuck you’re going.”

She frowned. “Renzo paid me for the whole night.”

“Then don’t complain,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut and play your role. Don’t disrespect my wife again.”

He’d reluctantly agreed to this charade with one of Renzo’s whores. Klaus liked the idea of making Lastra’s blood boil. With everyone thinking Isabella was still alive, except her father, he’d be feeling the shame of his son-in-law showing up with a mistress.

Even worse, thinking she was dead and believing her husband had moved on without a respectful mourning period. Either way, he was good. Klaus’s only goal was to stir shit up. Lastra could think whatever the fuck he wanted to think.

As soon as he spotted Isabella’s mother, he separated from his date and headed directly over to her, weaving around the throng of guests. “Mrs. Lastra.”

“Klaus, good to see you here. Where’s Isabella?”

He took her by the elbow, a bit firmly to make a point. She walked with him as he led her away from the crowd. “You know more than you let on. Who do you know that would want to humiliate me? Who do you know that would send an assassin to my home to kill my wife? I know everything happening in my house. Shouldn’t your husband know his, as well?”

She looked up at him, horror in her eyes.

“You’re just as much to blame as him, Mrs. Lastra. Turning a blind eye all these years led to this. Look at him over there smiling and greeting guests. He loses no sleep knowing his daughter is dead. She always disappointed him, didn’t she?”

“Dead?”

He walked away from her before she could mutter another word. She knew damn well who was capable of the murder. Her husband was a monster.

Now he just needed to bide his time. He watched her scamper off to the foyer, pushing through people with disregard. Watching her animate with her arms as she spoke to her husband guaranteed she was giving him a piece of her mind. They disappeared into a room behind the main entrance.

He made eye contact with Renzo.

His brother jutted his chin to the left. As soon as he looked over his shoulder, one of Lastra’s soldiers approached him. He clapped Klaus on the shoulder, but he shrugged him off.

The prick leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Shame about your pretty wife. I wonder what will happen when the world finds out what you’ve done.”

Klaus whirled around, grabbing him by the neck, ignoring the gurgling sounds and hands clawing at his wrists. How dare he even suggest he’d kill his own wife. His beautiful Isabella.

“There are no enemies here tonight,” said Renzo, shoulder butting him. Their father always called him the peacemaker. “This isn’t the place, Klaus. We have plans, no?”

He came to his senses, releasing his grip on Lastra’s soldier. It went against his better instincts, but he had to keep his wits if he wanted to outsmart Carmello tonight. The guy ran a hand over his throat, then adjusted his jacket.

“Watch what you say. I have a good memory,” said Klaus.

The other man opened his lapel just enough to brandish his handgun.

“Is that supposed to scare me, you piece of shit?” He bolted forward, only to hit Renzo’s outstretched arm. “You can’t hide in here all night.”

Klaus backed off, walking away with his brother, checking over his shoulder every few steps. As he noted the Accardi presence in the hall, his nerves calmed slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“He knew about Bella. I killed everyone who came to my house that night. How many others think she’s dead?”

“Doesn’t matter. Keep to the plan.”

“Lastra’s in the back with Bella’s mother,” said Klaus.

“Good. Where’s Veronica?”

He ignored his brother, his eyes on the prize. Klaus wasn’t the only one who’d noted Mario drinking and laughing with his friends. His own soldiers were closing in, the little shit oblivious to their presence. They moved like a pack of wild cats, entrapping their prey, closing in foot by foot.

“We should wait, Klaus,” said Renzo. “If the mother makes a big enough scene, none of this