“No,” I answered gruffly.

“Calm down. I’m not pissed about Antonio. He’s lucky he didn’t get a bullet between his eyes. There’s no retaliation or payback for this. He made his own mess; he’ll clean it up.” Remeo dismissed it with a flick of his wrist to the air.

I wondered if this was true or if he was blowing smoke up my ass, but judging from his posture, he meant it.

He moved to the table, sitting down in the middle chair, his wide body covering half the damn table. “Let’s talk. Have a seat.” He motioned to the seat in front of him.

Seeing he wasn’t pissed about Antonio, I walked around the table, pulled out a chair, and sat across from him. There was no better time to start, and I had some serious demands that he needed to hear first before the conversation went any further.

“First off, Antonio does nothing with Lambardoni product, ever. He’s dead to our family; therefore, he does not partake in any business dealings with us,” I ordered, not giving a shit what he thought. He would follow it, or I would pull all product away, leaving him to figure out how he was going to make money.

“You know that’s gonna be hard to do when he’s one of the runners.” He steepled his fingers, trying to play mister big shot, which didn’t work on me.

I slammed my hand down on the table, causing him to jump in his seat and gathering his full attention. “I don’t give a flying shit what he does for you. He touches nothing when it comes to Lambardoni. If he does, I fucking cut off his balls, and then I cut ties with you altogether.” I brought my hands together, clutching them in front of me as I stared the man dead in his eyes, not giving an inch. A calm fury pulsated through me that I allowed to radiate through my eyes.

“You can’t cut ties with me. I’m your highest distributor around here.”

That was true, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t find another person to take over in a heartbeat. Everyone was replaceable, and it was about time the fucker realized it.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t think for one second that you aren’t replaceable. There are other families chomping at the bit for a chance at your run. It would be in your benefit to remember that.” I raised my eyebrow, knowing he wouldn’t doubt me, yet also challenging him. “If you think I couldn’t or wouldn’t call on one of them and have another route set up in less than two days, you’re out of your fucking mind. Supply and demand. Since we supply your product, you’d be done.” Point made.

He didn’t say a word. He simply sat there, staring with his jaw slackened.

“So, let’s get this straight right now. There will be no further discussion on it. If you want to continue to run your empire, you will not let Antonio touch anything tied to us. You’ll keep him away from all Lambardoni’s, most especially Catarina. His life was spared out of family loyalty. He crosses this boundary and that will no longer spare him or you.”

As we sat in silence for long minutes, I had no doubt he would see things my way. He had no choice.

The wheels in his head were turning like crazy, trying to figure it all out and piece everything together. This was where the fact that I was summoned here didn’t sit right. I had this guy by the balls when it came to business—hell, life—but at Vino and Sal’s word, I came.

“Fine. I’ll need to do some restructuring,” he conceded.

“I don’t give a shit what you have to do. It’s done or this is over.”

“You don’t think I could put a call into Vino and Sal and get you dropped down a peg?”

His cockiness pissed me the fuck off, and the rage was too much to bear. No one threatened me. These past five years had hardened me; there was no doubt about that. I had learned more than I probably ever wanted to know and become ruthless and cut throat, but that was the business.

With a deadly stare, feeling every bit of it, I spoke evenly and calmly, masking my hatred for this man at the moment. “Go ahead. Do you think they’re gonna take anything you have to say over me? No fucking way. Do you think they’ll give you leeway after what Antonio did? Go for it. Do you think they’ll have one ounce of qualm about me banning Antonio? Try it. In fact, I’ll ask them here in a bit. I have a meeting with Vino and Sal after this.” I shrugged, not giving a damn if he picked up the phone and did it. It would be cheap entertainment if he did. I knew my boss would back me up on whatever decision I made because it was best for the family. Everything I did was to keep the Lambardoni name safe, along with their people.

He studied my face and then, with a resolved sigh, gave in.

“No bother. Want to get down to the reason I asked you here?”

“Wider distribution,” I answered.

He nodded and sat up straight in his chair. The asshole just got done threatening me, and then he wanted wider distribution? I should put a bullet between his eyes and save the world from his stupidity. Instead, I waited.

“We already cover Rhode Island and Connecticut. I want Upper New York and half of Philly.”

I came all this way for that? This could have been handled over email in code easily. Not to mention, those areas were already covered.

“We have Zan running over there. No need for you, too.”

His eyes sharpened, attempting to intimidate me, and it took everything in my power to remain calm and not punch him in his jaw simply to knock that expression off his face.

“I know he runs it. I want it.”

Zan, my uncle, was given those lines when my father—Sal’s best friend—died, moving him from the West Coast to the East. Vino had given him this to appease him after not allowing him to take over the West Coast operations, giving it to me, instead. Zan was pissed, and our relationship wasn’t the best due to that, but he did what I said, and that was all I needed.

“Is that it?” I was seriously bored and a bit pissed off, counting down the minutes before my meeting with Vino and Sal. I had several questions for them.

“Did you not hear what I said? I want that territory. I want it now.” Remeo had some serious balls to demand this.

I quirked my brow in challenge, reaching behind me and pulling out my gun then setting it on the table in front of me. If he wanted to be disrespectful, I would show him real quick what that would get him.

“Why?”

There was always a reason for quick change in protocol. Nothing that involved product and money got done at the snap of a finger. Discussions happened before anything was even considered. Remeo should know that unless he had already talked to Vino and Sal fully, and they were on board with it.

“Zan’s a fuck-up.” He stood and walked over to the bar, grabbing a manila envelope and tossing it on the table. It slid across the flat surface, stopping right in front of me.

Anger rose inside, and it took every bit of control I could muster to keep it reined in.

“Read this shit. Take it. You’ll figure it out quick enough,” he dismissed.

“You’re accusing my uncle of some serious things here.” I grabbed the envelope and held it in the air. “You sure this will be enough to convince me not to put a bullet in your head?”

“You’ll see it.”

I rose from the chair, placing my gun in the back of my jeans and clutching the envelope. “Remeo,” I said, walking around the table and standing in front of him.

“Yeah?” he answered calmly.

I nailed him hard in the gut with my fist, causing all the air to leave him in a whoosh. He tumbled to the floor.

“Remember who the fuck you’re dealing with. If you act like that to me again, you’ll get much more.” I left his wheezing body on the floor, opened the door, and motioned for my men to follow me. I needed to get the hell away from Remeo before I really did put a bullet in his head.

The shock of the information lying at my feet was eating at me. I wanted to look in the envelope I was carrying. It couldn’t be fucking true. My uncle wouldn’t do shit, right?