Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I’ve sent my men to rough him up.”
My eyes narrow on my friend. “Where?”
“At his house.”
Vittoria.
“They’re not to lay a finger on his sister,” I order.
Damiano’s eyebrow lifts, and curiosity sparks in his dark brown irises. “Why?”
Damiano is the least forgiving out of the bunch of us. He has no problem killing an entire family for the sins of one.
Knowing I can trust the men in the room, I admit, “I’m making her my wife.”
Silence falls over the table until you can hear a pin drop. Four faces stare at me in shock, but Damiano is the first to recover from the bomb I just dropped.
He gives me an incredulous look. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes, but there won’t be an elaborate wedding because Vittoria doesn’t know, so don’t expect an invitation.” Wanting to make sure Vittoria will be okay, I say, “Call your men and make sure they don’t touch my future wife.”
The corner of Damiano’s mouth lifts as he pulls his device out of his pocket, “Never thought you’d force a woman to marry you,” he mentions, and after he dials a number, he mutters, “Don’t touch Romano’s sister when you pay him a visit.”
He listens to whatever his man says, then lets out a sigh. “Who?” There’s a moment’s pause before he mutters, “Bring Vito to me.”
When he ends the call and sets the device on the table, he mutters, “They already went to Romano’s house.”
I suck in a deep breath of air. “And?”
“Vito tossed her around, but she’s alive.”
White-hot anger ignites in my chest as I rise to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Dario asks.
“To make sure my woman’s okay.” I pin Damiano with a glare. “Keep Vito here. I’ll deal with him when I return.”
He climbs to his feet and mutters, “I’m coming with.”
Franco, Renzo, and Dario also stand up while Dario says, “None of us are missing out on this.”
The incident won’t bring bad blood between Damiano and me, but I can’t promise Vito will live to see another day.
As we all leave the room, Damiano tells Carlo, “When Vito arrives, have him wait for us.”
“Yes, boss.”
We all file out of the house, and seeing as Dario’s car is parked behind ours, I say, “Dario, you’re driving.”
I take the passenger seat of the G-Wagon while Damiano, Franco, and Renzo climb into the back.
When Dario starts the engine, I give him the address. Suddenly, opera blares over the speakers, and it has me giving Dario a what-the-fuck look.
He turns the sound down to a bearable volume, then says, “I was jamming on the way here.”
“To opera?” Renzo asks. “You’re fucking weird.”
“Thank you,” Dario says with a joking tone.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” I mutter.
Fifteen minutes later, when Dario pulls up at the front of Vittoria’s house, I don’t wait for him to switch off the engine. I climb out of the car, and halfway up the path, I hear my friends’ footsteps behind me.
I bang on the front door with a fist, and a moment later, I hear Vittoria ask, “Who’s there?”
“Angelo.”
She mutters something I can’t make out, then opens the door. The moment her eyes land on the five of us, she shrieks and tries to shut the door again.
I quickly place my foot in the way and shove it open.
Vittoria staggers backward, her features tightening with alarm. “Oh, God. I don’t know what Giorgio did. I had nothing to do with it,” she rambles. “He’s not here.”
I grab hold of her shoulder, and as my eyes scan over her body, I see bruises on her arms and legs.
Damiano also notices the bruises and says, “Those are old, Angelo.”
Vittoria limps backward to get away from us as we all enter her house, and it has me barking, “Why the fuck are you limping?”
“I stepped on broken glass,” she whimpers, her eyes filled with terror and shining with tears.
Not thinking and just reacting, I stalk to her, and picking her up bridal style, I carry her to the kitchen table that’s visible from the foyer.
Her eyes are wide on me, and she makes a distressed, squeaking sound. I feel how badly she’s trembling, and when I set her down on the table, she grabs hold of my biceps to keep her balance.
I’m leaning half over her, and bracing my hands on either side of her hips, my eyes lock with hers. My voice is filled with fire and brimstone as I ask, “What happened when Vito and his men visited you earlier tonight?”
Tears spiral down her cheeks, and her chin quivers. The sight has me staring at her like a dumbfounded idiot because never in my life have I seen anything more adorable than the face before me.
Fuck. She’s way too fucking cute when she cries.
Something shifts in my chest, and not thinking, I push her legs open so I can move closer, and wrapping my arms around her, I press her head to my chest.