Page 6 of The Don's Secret Heir

Giovanni raises an eyebrow. “Are there going to be issues with Enrique?”

I shrug. “Not from me.”

Enrique Vasquez, a Cuban drug lord and a very dangerous man, supplies us with blow, horse, anything we want. This is a huge shipment, though, and the first since I took over the empire. The first since my parents died.

“He’s used to dealing with your father. Do you think...” he trails off.

“Do I think he’ll try to kill me?” I shrug again. “Maybe.”

The waitress puts our coffee cups down on the table, filling them with a carafe and looking at me for a long moment before walking back toward the register. It’s dead in here, just me andGiovanni and the staff, and if we weren’t having a business meeting, I might really have hit on her.

There’s always room in my roster for a few more fun hours.

Giovanni sips his coffee, quirking a dark eyebrow. “You’re certainly taking your demise in stride.”

“I didn’t say hewouldkill me, just that he might try. We can hold our own.”

He nods, putting his coffee down on the table and looking at his watch.

“Alright, well, we’d better get going. We wouldn’t want to keep Enrique waiting.”

I nod, placing a hundred-dollar bill down on the table and standing up as the waitress walks over to get the tip.

Her eyes, a pretty green, widen as she sees the money on the table.

“Sir—” she starts, but I wave a hand and wink at her. She blushes and looks away.

Giovanni snorts as we walk out. “You’re something else.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whose car are we taking?”

We end up taking his since mine is pretty flashy. He drives a simple, black luxury sedan.

We arrive at the warehouse within ten minutes, parking in the back instead of a couple of blocks away like usual. We want to make a quick exit in case things go south.

Enrique stands at the back of the building, surrounded by crates of drugs. His dark eyes narrow as we walk up.

“You must be Dario.”

“The one and only,” I drawl, smiling. I walk up and shake his hand. He has a firm grip, which makes me feel a little less on edge. We’ve been communicating on the phone for the last year, but we haven’t been able to put together a shipment until now.

I’d taken a year hiatus after my parents were killed, allowing myself some time to grieve, and I’m glad that I did. I came back with a clear head.

“Heard about your parents,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“Your pops was a good man,” he continues. “I hope that you’ll carry on his legacy.”

“That’s the plan.”

He nods, finally seeming to relax, and my heart stops racing.

“Your father never tested my supply, but you’re welcome to.”

I shake my head. “With new suppliers, I bring someone to test them, but I don’t do it myself.”

Enrique gives me a small smile. “You’re a smart man. More like your father than I thought.”