The name of his cousin, Fabrizio, echoed in Fabio's mind like the ticking of a clock counting down to an explosion. Fabrizio was a storm. He was brutal, vicious, and ready to kill anyone the moment his temper flared.
Fabio finally looked up. His gaze was dark and deep. He remained outwardly calm, though anxiety coiled in the back of his mind.
"No witnesses?" Fabio asked. His voice was flat, almost too steady for a man who had just killed his own brother's lover.
Martin nodded quickly, cold sweat beginning to bead at his temples. "We made sure of it, Boss. The area is clean."
Fabio leaned back in his high-backed chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, his breathing rhythmic and controlled. There was no explosive anger, no string of curses to fill the room.
