Connor POV
Vito braces his hands on the smooth surface of his desk and leans forward, pulling me from my thoughts, and just barely avoids the puddles of liquor that he never bothered to clean. I lounge back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me while still holding my head up with my index finger against my temple.
A vein bulges in his neck, and I can practically see his pulse throbbing next to it, but he manages to keep his voice mostly composed still. Composed- but still hard-edged and heated from how irate I’ve relentlessly made him grow. “You, my boy, did not uphold that reputation in any regard or measure. Instead, you let some punk off of the streets all but kill you.”