(NIKOLAI)
Pully,Switzerland One week later
"God, this sucks," Massimo muttered for the hundredth time since I'd purchased this estate. "This is worse than the yacht."
The massive house had five floors, ten bedrooms, a swimming pool, and sat on the shores of a lake. And this was worse, how?
I didn't speak. We were eating dinner—Massimo, Vito, and me—in the kitchen. Massimo had made chicken piccata, and, despite his excellent cooking skills, it didn't taste as delicious as I knew it must be. The dish had too many memories now for me to enjoy it.
Yebat', I fucking missed her. It had been almost two weeks, and I could hardly function. A mafia zombie, Massimo had called me.
Is all of it really worth it?
She'd asked me that during our last night together. At the time, I thought yes, the money and power were worth all my sacrifices, even the ones that pained me most.
