Shrugging it off, I offer him a smile. “I had things to do before I meet my wife.” The chill in the air drops to below zero when Valentino’s stormy expression pins itself on me. “I’m serious.”
“Don’t fuck this up, it’s what your father wanted,” he murmurs as footsteps sound from the door. But it’s not what I wanted. But I don’t bother arguing with him. “It’s the only revenge we will get,” he tells me. “And make sure to leave with her as soon as possible. I don’t need her knowing anything more than what she should. Once you’re gone, we will handle Tommaso.”
I can’t say anything in response. I can’t ask what his plan is, because the Cavallones have arrived, causing Valentino to straighten as if he wasn’t just perturbed at my tardiness and lack of suit. He’s nothing if not composed around others, especially when it comes to our enemies. Just like my father was. I don’t look at them for a long while as they come to a stop in front of us.
“De Rossi,” the deep baritone of Tommaso echoes, and I offer a silent nod. “You’ve taken many of my men, and you’ve made sure I can’t do anything about it. My brother would be heartbroken to see his clan in such disrepair.” The anger in his voice is pure fire as he delivers his words.
That’s when I meet his gaze and smile. “When you start a war, you should be prepared to finish it,” I tell him, keeping my tone cool, aloof, as if I’m not at all concerned about the lives we’ve taken. And I’m not. I learned from my father, and I will never feel guilt for this life. Salvatore De Rossi never concerned himself with acts of the past. It’s the future that always had his focus.
“Let it be known that I will get my niece back,” Tommaso hisses through clenched teeth with a jaw ticking, vehemence cutting into his voice, into his words.
The corner of my mouth tips upward, a satisfied smirk circling my lips as I take a step forward. “Who knows, perhaps I’ll return her after I’m done with her.” My promise is filled with danger as I take another few steps toward the man who won’t live to see another day. Only, he doesn’t know it yet. He’s much shorter than I am, and when I stop inches from him, I tower over the older man. “But when I do, she won’t be in the same pristine condition you delivered her in. Now, tell me, Tommaso,” I murmur, ensuring he cowers from my tone. “Where is my little wife?”
Anger vibrates through him, his hands fist at his sides and his jaw ticks with barely restrained violence, but he won’t lash out. He knows that if he tries something, he’ll be dead before he can blink.
We’ve surrounded them. Our men are ready, waiting for something to go wrong. My hand is trained on my knife that’s comfortably sheathed at the small of my back. I don’t go anywhere without it. And meeting one of my enemies is more than reason enough to ensure I can slice into his wrinkled, tanned flesh before he can spew his venom.
“Bring her in,” he orders, and I take a step back, but I don’t look away from the old man. Every small nuance he emits, I take in. He’s afraid. I’ve become accustomed to reading people, and he’s not at all difficult to read.
Too bad the men will kill him before he walks out of here tonight. I wish I could be here to watch, but like Valentino said, I need to keep Luna away from the violence for as long as possible. It will make it easier on her when she learns she’s alone in this world with only me to lean on.
I briefly wish it was her father before me. He died thinking his daughter will sleep beside a Moretti, but instead, she has me. I wish he knew her last name will be De Rossi, it would have grated at him because if he knew I’ll be the one fucking her, making her cry and scream would have most definitely made his blood boil. Even so, a smile cuts across my face.
Tommaso notices the flare of rage in his eyes sparks like a wildfire taking out a forest in its path. But there is no other violence from him. This is one of those moments where the saying, if looks could kill, comes to mind.
“Zio?” Her voice is like a lyrical melody, stealing my attention from her uncle, but for a long moment, I don’t glance her way. Instead, I inhale deeply, basking in the gentle fragrance that hits my senses as she nears us—candied apples.
A memory slams into my chest, into my mind as I recall my mother making them at Christmas. I was only ten at the time and she would make sure I got the biggest one. I would help her in the kitchen, twirling the sticky confection until I was drenched in it. My mouth and hands a deep red, but as I grew up, got older, the claret that now stains me is far from the innocence of sugary treats.
I finally twist my body to face her. To look at the woman who will soon be my wife, and to say I wasn’t ready for it, would be an understatement. She’s dressed in a pair of black tights that hug her long shapely legs. Her feet are hidden in a pair of soft pink ballet flats.
Her hair is bound in a bun at the back of her head, and her delicate neck is smooth and creamy. She’s not as tanned as the girls I remember from southern Italy. She’s fair, like a porcelain doll. Her back is straight, her shoulders back as if she’s not afraid. She should be.
She stops beside her uncle. Even though she’s tall, her head barely reaches his. And if she were beside me, she’d be at least a head and a bit shorter than my towering frame. Her hips have a slight curve, giving her an hourglass figure.
Her chest is barely there, her tits more than a handful. The top she’s wearing is pastel pink, just like her shoes, and it’s tight, showing off her slender frame. Her spine straight, chin tipped back with confidence, even amongst violent men. All that elegance and poise comes from her ballet classes.
My cock throbs at the sight of her sweet, candy innocence. And I want nothing more than to tarnish the pristine pink of her clothes and the porcelain smoothness of her skin. I swallow back the lump in my throat and focus on the here and now.
She’s exquisite.
More than I imagined.
But then, I have been stalking her like a creep in the shadows.
“Luna,” Tommaso mumbles as he turns to the girl who’s just entered, flanked by two bulky men in suits. “I need you to go now,” he informs her. “I told you there is no other way this plays out.”
“But—”
He shakes his head, pinning her with a glare so fierce, it has her cowering, and it’s the first time I see true fear in her expression. And I would be lying if I said it didn’t make my dick hard. The little dancer is capable of being scared, which will make this even more fun.
For a long time, she just stares at her uncle before she silently nods. Then, she turns those eyes on me, the soft olive green that greets me holds anger as she looks me over. I don’t move, allowing her to take me in from head to toe before she flicks those orbs on mine.
“Is this the only way you can get a woman?” she sneers, stepping up to me, her shoulders back and her chin tipped in defiance. My desire only seems to warm for her, heating my blood, as she stops in front of me. “It’s a shame.” The little dancer skates her gaze over me once more, her lip curling in disgust, and I can’t stop the chuckle that vibrates through my chest.
“Fire.” I tip my head to the side, regarding her with cool admiration. “I like it. More than I enjoyed you running from the table where I was seated.” Before she can respond, I tip my chin toward my men, who grab her arms and drag her from the warehouse. Her screams bounce off the walls as she curses me to hell.