Playboy Billionaire

“You like ethics. Tell me which one is more ethical. Fifty-something men dying, or just one?” I beg him to answer me with my eyes. Plead for him to see reason. He shakes his head.

“Tito.” I firmly press.

“I’m not answering that, Antonio,” he continues to shake his head, and Jack leans in to speak.

“Technically, one over fifty is–” We both turn towards him.

“Shut up,” we say in unison, and he leans back, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“I’m not a good shot.” Tito finally breaks.

“Then I guess we better hope I'm a quick runner.” Tito scoffs and grabs my arm, pulling me into a hug as he wishes me good luck. I turn towards where I'm about to run as the bullets continue to ping. Jack and Tito continue to rise from the barricade to shoot, ducking quickly back down after each shot. I count down in my head, knowing I might very well be counting down the seconds left in my life. But my life is nothing without Stella. I know that now. Feel it in the very core of my being. If I can't have her, I don't want anything, not even life– especially not life without her.

“Three. Two. “One,'' I whisper and sprint for my life, shooting down a couple men pointing their guns at me until I reach the platform. I don't think about anything except saving Stella. Everything in my body knows what to do. I shoot the back of the biggest guy separating me from her. He whips around and tries to shoot me again, but I punch the gun from his hand, hit him square in the jaw then pull him into a chokehold as the other men at the altar begin shooting at me.

I turn him to them as their bullets soar, plunging straight into tubby, and he slinks to the ground. The next guy, tall, lanky, gold tooth, shoots right for my head, and that pisses me off a little, so I duck and run right for him like a linebacker, tackling him to the ground. He falls back with a thud, hitting his head on the ground hard enough that he’s dazed. I lift my gun right under his chin, snarling.

“I’ll fucking do it.” I threaten, and he raises his hands in surrender, so I stand, shoot him in the thigh for good measure, and kick him off the altar.

“Are you–'' I turn to Stella, who is pressed against the wall with the wedding officiant. Her eyes go wide, which shuts me up, and I turn around just as the back of a gun smacks across my already wounded head. I gasp in pain as I hit the ground. Blinking away the growing black spots in my vision. I swing at nothing as someone picks me up by my shirt collar and slams me to the ground. This blow is particularly painful because it’s right where my fresh stitches are. I wince at the agony it brings, desperately searching the sky for the deliverer of such pain.

A face hovers over me until it’s inches from mine, hot breath on my sweat-glistened skin. His eyes are bluer than the pacific, dark hair falling away from his face as he crouches over me.

“Prepare to die,” he whispers, and I feel the cold blunt of the gun pressed to my temple as he holds me down.

“No!” Stella shrieks, and I force my eyes to turn towards her. She’s completely flustered, with bleary eyes, falling to her knees as another idiot with a gun holds her back. Even now, she’s beautiful. At least she’s the last thing I see before–

“STOP!” There is a yell so loud, that every single person freezes to look at Nikolai Mikhailov, who I think jumps from the upper roof where he retreated to.

“Boys, welcome.” He raises his arms with a grin as if we’re the best of friends. I grimace at him, curling my upper lip in disgust as I narrow my eyes. I hope his son pulls this trigger. Even seeing Nikolai makes me want to murder the sick bastard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He cocks his head and looks over to his son, who still presses his gun to my head with persistence. “Is this any way to treat our guests?”

“You mean shooting us dead wasn’t your idea of proper treatment?” I sarcastically chide through my teeth. He laughs through his nose, making slow steps to us as Tito and Jack rise from behind the barricade.

“You better wipe that smirk off of your face, asshole.” I spit, and he glances at his son, tilts his head to order him off me, and Kias furrows his brows in response.

“Father–”

“Move!” He snaps, and Kias jumps up, nearly storming off the altar like a child throwing a tantrum.

“You shot my men.” Nikolai sits on a chair in the front row as I force my throbbing head up with the rest of my body.

“They shot first,” I grunt, and he raises his brows.

“What to do with you now?” He thinks aloud, sighing as he pulls out an eight-inch from his jacket. It flashes in my eyes as he looks it over in his hands. I take the opportunity to cock my gun at his face, and I hear the click of someone else's next to me again. I know it’s Kias’ without even looking. Now I notice the men lying everywhere, grunting in pain or out cold. Jack is behind Kias with a gun to his head, and Tito has made his way behind Nikolai. Tito looks sick– he never did like violence, poor kid. And Jack looks just as stunned as I am that we pulled this off.

“Looks like the real question is, what to do with you?” I clench my jaw until it cracks, and he places the blade on the seat next to him just as the elevator door dings. Out comes twenty other Russian mafia members, guns cocked to us.

“Fuck.” Tito groans, and Nikolai smirks. They spot us with guns to their boss and his son, then hesitate.

“Looks like we’re at a standstill.” Nikolai raises his stick brows over his pasty skin. “You shoot me. They shoot you. You shoot them, and I shoot you. Seems to be a conundrum no matter which way you cut it.”

“Just tell us what you want.” Tito pipes up, and Nikolai laughs.

“Well, it was going to be a surprise, but I’m joining forces with the Lombardi’s. You know, a little like the way you were going to do with Stella, but you just couldn’t keep her happy. Could you?” I grit my teeth as his eyes twinkle with far too much enjoyment. Then I glance at Stella, who’s still shaking, new men replacing the ones I took down, pointing their guns at her again. “If it’s a deal you want, I've got one that’s better.” Tito pipes up again, and Nikolai presses his lips together in consideration.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for proposals. Your brother here,” he points a gun at me, “is responsible for that.” “What if I told you that we could unite all families?” Tito continues to fight him, and I hate where he’s going with this, but what other option do we have? Death. No one wins, my family loses two sons today and any relationship we were building with the FBI as a result.