Rule (The Larussio Legacy Book 1) Read online

  Rule

  The Larussio Legacy

  Book 1

  Via Mari

  Copyright © 2019 by Via Mari

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for the adult readers ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you are in. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

  This book is rated: For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Portions of this work have been previously published in interconnecting novels. The work, in whole, has not been previously published and is not in the public domain.

  All rights reserved to the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from the author.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Creative Consultant: Suzannah Safi

  Book Cover Designer: www.suziedesigns.net

  First Edition

  v. 1.0.1

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Katarina

  Chase

  Katarina

  Chase

  Katarina

  Chase

  Gio

  Serena

  Katarina

  Gio

  A Note From the Author

  About the Author

  Books by Via Mari

  Acknowledgments

  I will always be grateful to the following people for their dedication and the support they have provided along the way:

  Wayne, my husband, thank you for always believing in me, supporting my passions, and helping me make my crazy dream come true.

  My parents and family who have been a solid and steady reminder that goals can be achieved with determination, hard work, and commitment.

  Karla, my dear friend, thank you for your unconditional support through all the insanity! Who read the first book first and encouraged me to keep going. Who also recommended getting other beta readers, because, “You can only read a book for the first time once.”

  Debbie, thank you for your encouragement and willingness to tour Chicago and New York with me while researching for the story!

  Debbie, my editor, thank you for putting hours and hours into these books, carefully poring over them to ensure the reader has a wonderful experience.

  Suzannah, my graphic artist who made the images of my covers come to life.

  Tonia, Roslynn, Carryl and Deb, our mastermind group, thank you for the endless hours of comradery, thoughtful reflection, and dedication to each of our goals. I would not be here without you!

  Chase

  As we exit the limo, we are surrounded by security. The portly doorman dressed in uniform greets us as we enter the New York Prestian skyrise and head for the private elevator that will take us to our penthouse.

  When the doors open into the foyer of our home, we are greeted by another man. “The condo is clear,” he says to me and Sheldon, who has been placed in charge of Katarina’s security.

  “The Chicago boys are in the city. They’re still crawling all over the Larussio estate, but the place is locked down like a fortress,” one of the guards says.

  “I don’t want the teams getting spread too thin. Call for backup and let me know when they’re in place,” Sheldon says.

  “Thanks, everyone,” I say, knowing he’ll handle any situation that may arise, and I guide Katarina through the expansive open concept condo.

  Gaby is in the kitchen and wipes her hands on her apron, bustling around the counter to pull Katarina into her arms and then me. “Land sakes! The boys weren’t telling me anything. I didn’t even know you were safe until just a few moments ago. Shame on you for keeping me in the dark,” Gaby says, smacking me playfully on the arm.

  The woman who has been like a surrogate mother to me and has maintained my homes for the last seven years was worried. “Sorry, Gaby, they had to be extra careful. We were supposed to be on our way to Italy and wanted anyone trying to find us to believe that was still the plan,” I say.

  “You know I worry,” Gaby says, sashaying her round figure to the counter to pour each of us a cup of coffee.

  “No need, Gaby. It’s being sorted,” I say, helping Katarina settle onto the barstool.

  “Hmm! Says you! Sit. I figured if your security team wanted me here that you were up to no good. I have some blueberry mix made, and it won’t take long to make you both some pancakes,” Gaby says, opening the refrigerator to pull out a ceramic bowl covered in saran wrap while we drink our coffee.

  She bustles about the kitchen, getting our breakfast prepared, and places the blueberry pancakes on the table. The aroma wafts through the air, and Katarina’s face pales.

  “You okay, Baby?” I ask.

  “My stomach still isn’t quite right,” she says quietly.

  Gaby takes a close look at her. “Rough night?” she says to Katarina and gives me a scowl.

  Katarina smiles. “It’s not his fault. We were celebrating Jenny’s exoneration, and I had way too much to drink last night. My head is pounding. Hopefully, the Ibuprofen kicks in soon,” Katarina says.

  “I know just the cure, Sweetie,” Gaby says, pulling out a can of tomato juice, a lemon, hot sauce, and going to the bar to grab a bottle of vodka. “The best thing in the world for a hangover is a Bloody Mary,” Gaby declares as she begins whipping her concoction together.

  “Gaby, she has a lot of work to do in order to prepare for an important meeting this afternoon,” I admonish.

  She narrows her eyes into slits at me. “And if she drinks this, her headache will be gone. She’s dehydrated, needs some salt, a bit of spice, the vitamins in the tomato juice, and just a little hair of the dog. It’s not strong, and she’ll be better in no time,” Gaby says, placing her concoction emphatically in front of Katarina and handing her a straw.

  “I’ve never had a Bloody Mary, but I’m willing to try anything at this point,” Katarina says, initially sipping the drink tentatively and then taking large pulls from the straw until she has finished it in entirety.

  “That was really good! I’m sure
I feel at least a little better,” Katarina says laughing, handing Gaby her empty glass.

  Gaby raises her eyebrows in triumph. “Of course you do, child. Now let’s make you one without the vodka. The sodium and other nutrients you lost last night will be replaced shortly enough,” she says, bustling to the counter to blend the drink.

  I watch on with amusement as another glass is placed in front of Katarina and she chugs that one, too.

  “It’s been in my family for generations. You’ll be good as new in no time, just like magic. Now you need to eat, loads of carbs and real butter to soak up that alcohol,” Gaby says, placing the stack of pancakes in front of us once again and slathering Katerina’s with Irish cream butter.

  Katarina grins at me mischievously and takes a bite and then another. I want to do something utterly obscene with that mouth of hers, but my phone begins to vibrate with message after message, turning my attention to it. I excuse myself from their conversation, hit my attorney’s number and listen to him for a few brief moments.

  “Have it delivered to me at our condo in the city ASAP. I’ll review it and be in touch,” I say, hanging up and looking into the questioning sea-blue eyes of my wife.

  “What was that all about?” Katarina says, passing me her plate with one untouched pancake heavily laden with butter.

  I ignore her question and push her plate back toward her, gesturing for her to eat while Gaby still has her back turned. “So full,” she whispers, rubbing her belly by way of explanation.

  I smirk and take pity on her, brushing the uneaten pancake onto my plate, just before Gaby turns back to Katarina. “Good, you’ve cleaned your plate. You’ll feel better in no time,” she says, nodding with confidence.

  My baby’s curiosity is not to be deterred though. “What was your conversation about?” Katarina asks as Gaby walks back into the kitchen with our plates.

  “It was our attorney. Carlos updated his will and living power of attorney documents a while back, naming the two of us co-executors of the Larussio estate, with detailed instructions on how he wants his empire to be handled.”

  Her brow furrows with concern for her father.

  “You heard me tell our attorney the swelling in his brain is leveling off. There’s every indication he’ll get through this, but until he does, he safeguarded his empire to ensure the legacy he wants for his family comes to life. He named you and one of your cousins, Giovanni Larussio, as the sole beneficiaries if both parents are deceased, with a wealth of contingencies that need to be fulfilled. We can review it once we receive the details.”

  “If he’s going to pull through, why would he do that now?” Katarina asks.

  “He drew it up before the accident. He’s not well enough yet to take the reins, and so this document has taken effect per his time stipulations. Carlos trusts you will honor his wishes while he’s unable to handle the business himself, and knows I won’t let anyone stand in your way.”

  “I have absolutely no experience with anything like this. The family barely knows me, and there are about a million other reasons, including this headache from hell, that leave me completely incompetent to deal with this,” Katarina says, but I cut her off gently, taking her hand in mine.

  “You will do fine,” I say as I stand.

  “I’m still processing,” Katarina says, her eyes gliding over my body, the path of her eyes heating my skin as it settles on my cock, which hardens with the desire of her gaze.

  I clear my throat and smirk as I lean over and kiss the tip of her nose, taking in the sparkling blue eyes and heated cheeks. She knows I’ve caught her admiring the view, and I love how her flushed cheeks give her need away. “I’m having the documents delivered shortly. That’s the conversation you overheard,” I say, taking a drink of my coffee.

  She shakes her head, and her long auburn curls sway with the movement. “If they are the ones that hurt my parents, I will not stop until they pay. They are stupid if they’d don’t think that I have what it takes to go up against that family.”

  My jaw tightens at the very thought of her in harm’s way. “Katarina, your dad will pull through this. You are a Larussio and will rise to the challenge, but you should rest before we prepare for your meeting with your uncle and Gio later,” I say, pushing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

  She nods and nuzzles into my chest as I pick her up and carry her to our room, settling her into the king-size bed to undress her and caress her with my tongue until she is sated and sleepy. I intend to leave her in our bed alone, but her arms wrap around my neck, and I curl her into my arms as she drifts to sleep.

  I look down at my wife, her long auburn hair splayed across her back and watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest for the next half an hour as she rests, carefully slipping out of bed so as not to wake her once she falls into a deep slumber. There is much to do today to ensure the safety of my spirited young wife.

  Gio

  I stare out to the blue-green sea crashing against the Amalfi Coast so far below. This view from my home office, which usually settles my agitation, does nothing to calm me today.

  I reread the message from my great-uncle requesting me to travel to the United States to meet my cousin Katarina Meilers Larussio Prestian, the daughter of my favorite uncle, Carlos Larussio. My jaw shifts with annoyance. The family members who have met my cousin seem to love her, but I haven’t seen a paternity test or any evidence that would positively conclude she is a Larussio, and until Uncle Carlos is well enough to have visitors or speak on the phone, there’s no reason to journey that far.

  I send my great-uncle an email letting him know that I have no interest in flying halfway across the globe to talk business, knowing he wants me on the plane in less than two hours. A message from our security team arrives, alerting me that the package my attorney needs me to review has arrived.

  I stride down the stairs toward the great room, but Victor, the estate butler, is already at the door accepting it as I walk up behind him. He hands it to me while thanking the delivery driver, and I head back to my study to read its contents. I close the heavy mahogany door to my office, slide into the leather executive chair, and open the sealed envelope.

  My chest tightens when I see that it is Uncle Carlos Larussio’s living will. If his attorney is sending me this, his health must be deteriorating. Dammit! I should have been there when he first got in the accident, and would have been if it hadn’t been for those damn negotiations. If that deal had gone south, it would have meant the loss of thousands of jobs in the area. I know Carlos would have wanted me to stay and seal the deal. If it hadn’t been for that, I would have been on the first plane over, hospital rules and security clearance be damned. This makes no sense at all. I’ve talked to Don Prestian, my uncle’s best friend, almost every day and have had every indication that he is getting better but still is not well enough to receive visitors or I would have been to see him already.

  I read the first two pages and already have questions, the third through the fifth are complex and full of stipulations to ensure the vast Larussio resort he wants to create in the United States moves ahead swiftly. I’m only halfway through the document when a call comes in from my great-uncle.

  “Giovanni, Carlos must be in a bad way. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken. I’m going to America, with or without you,” he says.

  Even though I’ve had no indication his health is declining, I’m holding his living will in my hand, and that can’t be good. “When do we leave?” I say, changing my mind, knowing that I can take care of my other commitments in the air.

  “The Prestian Corporation has a jet at the airport right now refueling from an overseas trip and will be leaving for the States soon. I talked with Don Prestian, and his son is making arrangements for us to be on that flight,” my great-uncle says.

  “Why his plane when ours is in the private hangar?” I ask.

&n
bsp; “I’ll fill you in on the way over,” he says.

  “I’ll be ready. Do we have any details about Carlos?” I ask.

  “We don’t know much, Giovanni. It’s too early. They put him in a coma to let the swelling in his brain subside, and they’ve brought him out of it, but only time will tell.”

  “There’s never been any love lost between you two. Why travel halfway around the world to see him?”

  “I’m also meeting with my great-niece Katarina and her husband. I want you to come with me and meet your cousin,” my great-uncle says.

  “You mentioned that before. What are you expecting to learn that we don’t already know?” I ask about this alleged daughter of Carlos who is currently listed as a beneficiary in Carlos’s living will along with myself.

  “I asked you to come with me because something’s not right. Carlos may not have been acting of sound mind even before he was in the accident,” he says.

  Now it’s coming together. Great-uncle has somehow received a copy of Carlos’s will and knows he has not been named in it, not one mention at all, as though he doesn’t exist. I smile to myself. Of course, in my great-uncle’s mind, that would be completely insane.

  “We didn’t originally think his accident had anything to do with us, but it may be the Chicago Mafia, and if it is, they’re not going to stop with Carlos and his family in New York. You can be damned sure that our entire family will be in jeopardy,” my great-uncle says.

  I’m convinced this trip is more about the will than anything, but at least now I understand why we’re taking a Prestian jet. He’s concerned about the Chicago Family. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us and plenty of time to talk, so I let it go. “Let’s continue our discussion in the air. I have a few things that require my attention before we leave. I’ll meet you at the airport,” I say, listening a few more minutes before we both disconnect.

  “I’ll have your bags prepared shortly,” Victor says, having heard my conversation while walking through the dining room. I nod and mouth my thanks while connecting to my attorney.