Page 94 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
As insignificant to the family as he was dangerous to them because they didn’t understand him. They couldn’t.
How could the smart Morellis relate to a deeply dyslexic man?
How could the gorgeous Morellis look such a scarred man in the face?
How could the blue blood Morellis accept a man who was born under a cloud of suspicion the family had spent years trying to hide from society?
I was anotherand in a family like the Morellis, there was no room for lack of conformity, no space for individuality. You were one of them or you weren’t.
I’d spent the last thirty years of my life trying to prove myself to them. To my father, Bryant, who still tried to rule the family from the shadows even though technically my eldest brother, Lucian, had taken over the company last year. And maybe, in a twisted way, to Lucian and Leo, my older siblings. We had no relationship. Is that because I was forced to do the unthinkable by Bryant on my twelfth birthday? Or because, even before that, there had always been whispers about me, a tension surrounding my presence in the family all because of the shade of my eyes? Whatever the reason, we weren’t close. I tried not to care—and failed.
Not Morelli brown. Not even my mother’s McTiernan grey.
But a bright, pale green like sun-bleached jade.
Those eyes had set me apart immediately, but my other imperfections had only solidified the divide.
So, I did what I could to make myself valuable to the family.
Lucian ran the family empire, Morelli Holdings.
Leo ran his own subsidiary in real estate. They were successful, and more importantly, legitimate businessmen.
And me?
I was the one Bryant went to when the dirty work needed to be done. The one who controlled the shadier interest of our family, with a few of my own healthy ventures on the side.
If my family didn’t want me in the light, they were more than happy to have me control the shadows. In the dark, I ruled over New York City just as surely as my father and brothers did their own domains. I might have drawn the short straw in their eyes, but I loved the underbelly of the city, the violence and craftiness of criminals called out to my own scarred heart.
I understood their avarice and drive. I felt the same bitterness and hatred in my veins, but I used it to fuel my own success.
There was no line I was too afraid to cross, no limit to my greed for power and acceptance.
So, when Bianca Belcante’s sweet, young voice called to me for help, the words didn’t so much resonate in the empty chambers of my hollow heart as they did in the deep, dark center of my gut.
This was an opportunity.
I’d spent three excruciating months seducing Aida Belcante and I had beenthis fucking closeto getting her to move to New York with me. To starting phase two of my plan to bring the Constantine family to their fucking knees for all of the crème de la crème of society to witness.
Because Aida wasn’t just some pretty, vapid little trinket I was playing around with for fun.
I didn’t have fun.
I had purpose.
And my purpose with the older woman was simple.
As soon as Ricardo Stavos, the private investigator on retainer with our law firm, Lombardi & Ghorbani, came back to me with evidence of her association to the Constantine family, I’d known what I would do.
Use Lane Constantine’s mistress against his widower, Caroline Constantine, and her entire pathetic brood. Because if there was one thing that bitch hated, it was public humiliation.
Aida’s death could have derailed my plans, but then there was her daughter, responsible, martyr-inclined, little Bianca begging me for help.
She was placing herself, wrapped up pretty with a bow like a fucking birthday present, in my lap.
So, I’d take it.
She was only seventeen and her brother only seven.
