Logan POV**

It was a Thursday. The rain was endless, drumming on the rooftop of the penthouse. I stood by the window, watching the city lights flicker through the fog, waiting for my father.

He came in, his tie was loose, anger simmering in his eyes.

“The Italians pulled out,” he snapped. “Said they don’t want to deal with someone who can’t protect his own house.”

I stayed quiet,I just waited to see where this conversation was going.

He poured himself a drink, ...