A Vow of Lust and Fury (Underworld Kings)

I was done with the bullshit. “You wanted to meet in person, Donato; here I am.”

“Yes. Here you are. You took the O’Hara boy, and now my men are paying the price.”

“Your men are cannon fodder, Donato. That’s what you brought to the table.”

His jaw clenched, a vein in his forehead visibly pulsing. “You starting a blood debt was not part of our agreement.”

“Yes, well, there are plenty of things that were ‘not part of our agreement.’” Like him trying to kill his own niece.

A beat of silence rang around the table, and I kept stroking over Emilia’s skin, using it to calm myself as much as her. I would not show an outburst of emotion to this man.

“This is war, Sergio. Men die.” The mob’s, and The Outfit’s anyway. My men were not supposed to die, though, and it cut me far deeper than I would ever let on.

“You lost two. I lost eight today alone, and who knows if that’s the end of it. You killed his damn nephew.”

I shrugged because I knew it was a cock-up, but this was the Famiglia. We apologized for nothing. The second a man apologized, he appeared weak and he opened himself up to attack.

A waitress brought a bottle of wine and poured four glasses before retreating.

Matteo’s attention followed her half-naked ass before snapping right back to where it had been this entire conversation—on Emilia. He stared at her like a man who’d walked through the desert for a week and she was a glass of water.

I took a sip of the wine, wondering if Romano would scream like a little bitch if I smashed the glass and rammed the broken stem into his throat.

“I see you came to your senses, Emilia.” Sergio nodded to the ring on Emilia’s finger, and she paled. “I’m impressed you managed to tame her, Giovanni.”

“There is a certain appeal in breaking the wild ones,” Matteo said, still focused on my fiancée, salivating over her like a drooling dog.

My fingers tensed around the wine glass, and Emilia subtly leaned toward me. I let out a breath, tension ebbing away as the scent of my shampoo mixed with her sweet smell wafted over me. It was unlike her, and I wasn’t sure if she just hated her uncle enough to present a united front, or Romano made her so uncomfortable that she sought out the safety of my presence.

“Mr. Romano, if you keep looking at my fiancée like that, you will find out exactly how I earned my reputation.”

Sergio chuckled as though this was all a big game. “Now, now, as you know, I was going to give Emilia to another. You can forgive a man for looking at what he might have had.”

My temper went nuclear in an instant, and as if she could feel it, Emilia grabbed my free hand under the table. She was fucking shaking, terrified, and it made me livid.

“There was no might.” I glared at the man who thought he could have what was mine. “No possibility. Emilia is mine.” I lifted her hand and brushed my lips over her fingers, over the ruby that sat pride of place.

Her gaze met mine, and though her mask was still in place, I could see it in her eyes, the cracks starting to form. When I looked back at Romano, he feigned a smile, but he couldn’t hide the rage, the slight twitch of his eye. There was a man who felt he was owed something.

“Now, can we get back to business?”

“Yes.” Sergio straightened. “I want to hit the mob with a coordinated attack in a few days. They killed my men, and I have no doubt they’ll kill more in the coming days—yours and mine. Let’s hit them hard.”

This was a route I didn’t want to go down, but I wasn’t going to deny Sergio his need for blood. Nero had proposed the same plan. The difference being The Outfit would be the face of this, not us. “Fine. Jackson will work out the finer details.”

Serio pushed to his feet. “I’m going to leave Matteo in New York to liaise. I trust he will be safe in your city.” It was a loaded comment.

I looked from Sergio to Emilia. There was something about Matteo Romano that upset her. Could I promise his safety? Technically, I had started this with Shane O’Hara, so I didn’t have a whole lot of choice.

“No one will kill him.” It was the most I was going to offer.

I pulled Emilia to her feet beside me and shook Sergio’s hand, once more ignoring Romano. The man was asking for a slit jugular. Emilia offered no goodbyes to either of them.

The moment we were out of sight of their table, she slipped from my hold and was practically running for the exit. Once outside, she moved away from me, tipping her face back to the sky for a minute.