Cruel Saints

Valentino will have no choice if he wants to keep the peace, and Elena will be too glad to be rid of Dante, so she shouldn’t mind.

And me?

My eyes drink in the stunning woman beside me.

I’ll have Elena. To fuck until lust turns to love.

Turning my gaze away from Elena before I start getting hard, I’m met with a smirk from Alexei.

The corner of my mouth lifts, no doubt he’s already guessed what I’m planning.

Needing to know what I’ll be walking into, I ask, “You saw my father?”

Alexei nods.

“Where was he shot?” I ask, the loss deepening my voice.

“He was meeting me at a café. It was probably a long-distance shot. They took him out before I got there.”

God, at least he didn’t know. It’s all we can ask for when our time comes.

I find comfort knowing my father didn’t suffer on his knees before he died. That would’ve killed me.

“Where is he now?”

Suddenly Elena places her hand on mine, and not wanting to lose her touch, I keep from looking at her as I turn my hand over and link our fingers.

“The morgue.”

Christ, the two words rip through me, and I tighten my hold on Elena’s hand.

“As soon as we’ve had the funeral, we’ll get to work,” I say, knowing I have to start thinking like the head of the Mafia and not the son of the greatest man who ever lived.

But first, I need to lay him to rest.

Now I only have an aunt left. My mother’s sister, Aunt Ursula, is my last living relative.

I turn my head to Elena, and she glances at me.

And I’ll have you. To have and to hold until death do us part.

As if Elena can hear my thoughts, she pulls her hand free from mine while a frown forms on her forehead, then she asks, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Like you’re planning something I’m not going to like,” she explains.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” I assure her, not wanting to tell her yet I’m going to arrange a marriage between us. First, I need to speak with Valentino.

“Now I’m definitely going to worry,” she mumbles as she goes back to staring out the window.

An hour later, as we near the landing strip, Alexei says, “Your guards will meet us at the airfield. I had them wait there. I get a feeling we’re going to need an army to get you safely home.”

I nod, then ask, “Will Bruno be there?”

He’s my father’s personal guard and in charge of all the other guards we have. It was his job to keep my father safe.

“Yes.”

Good.

We start our descend, and soon the plane comes to a stop. I unfasten the seat belt, and rising to my feet, I wait for Elena to get up before I take her hand and pull her to the door.

Demitri opens for us and exits the plane first, with Alexei behind him.

I keep a tight hold of Elena as we take the steps down to the tarmac, not worrying about our luggage which one of the guards will retrieve.

Spotting Bruno, I stalk toward him.

He begins to shake his head, his face torn with guilt.

Pulling the Heckler and Koch from behind my back, I lift it to his head, then growl, “You had one job. You had to keep him safe.”

He nods, knowing what’s coming.

“Follow my father to the afterlife and keep him safe until I join him.” Without a second thought, I pull the trigger, and Bruno drops to the tarmac.

Elena gasps and pulls against my hold on her, but I yank her back to my side.

“Bring his body and the luggage,” I instruct Franco, who’s next in charge. “You’ve just been promoted.”

Franco nods and orders two guards to take care of everything, and then he gestures for me to walk. Speaking into a microphone, he says, “We’re on the move.

I tighten my grip on Elena as I begin to walk, practically dragging her behind me. “Keep up, or I’ll fucking throw you over my shoulder,” I snap at her.

She picks up her pace, and then I hear a strangled sob as we reach the armored Mercedes G Wagon. Franco opens the door for me, and I have to shove Elena inside. Once I slide in beside her and Franco shuts the door behind me, I turn to her.

She’s fucking pale again, her eyes too wide.

“Do I need to start warning you every time I intend on shooting someone?” I ask, feeling a little irritated.

She scoots away from me, shaking her head.

Franco climbs in behind the steering wheel, then he says, “Mr. Koslov will take the lead.”

“Okay.” Matteo gets in the passenger side, and it has me saying, “You’ll be second in charge from now on.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he replies humbly.

“Who do we have that’s good?” I ask Franco.