Ruthless Monarch

As if reading my mind, he smirks but lets go.

“Pity. I promised your father I wouldn’t touch you, not until I kill my cousin and marry you. Apparently, he doesn’t take me at my word that I will help him.”

“Would you?”

He smiles again, the words he doesn’t say as clear as day . . . no.

“Why me? Why am I important to this deal?”

“Other than the obvious, the deal with your father for full control of every port in New York and New Jersey?”

“Yes.”

“Because Matteo took you, because he fell for you, and because of that”—his hand touches me again—“I will enjoy myself immensely.”

“He left me. He doesn’t care for me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. If he didn’t, you’d already be dead.”

His words spark the little bit of strength I have, and I push him off me.

“I said, don’t touch me.”

He laughs then, a sadistic laugh, his eyes glinting with the depth of evil I have never seen before.

“I will enjoy breaking you. And once I do that, I’ll give you to my men.”

“My father—”

“You will still be alive. You’ll still be the woman on my arm. I’ll make sure all your bruises can’t be seen.” I smack him against his face, and he just laughs. “Run away, little girl. I enjoy the chase.”

And that is exactly what I do.

I run.

36

Matteo

* * *

War is in the air.

All my men and I are staying in the city compound. It makes more sense. Salvatore doesn’t know of its existence. It however hasn’t been as easy to make pick-ups.

Which isn’t good for business.

They have blown up all the old warehouses I have kept. The original ones that date back to my father’s time. Thankfully, they haven’t found the one we currently use.

But we still need to make drops.

My men are anxious. Fuck, at this point, so am I.

There has been no word from any of the bugs on Viviana. It’s like she’s a ghost.

She doesn’t try to call me again. Not that her call will come through if she tried, but still. She doesn’t even try to call her friend. As for the bug on her bag, she hasn’t gone anywhere at all. Even the GPS tracker shows she hasn’t left the mansion in all the time she has been there.

The phone rings in the surveillance room. Roberto takes the call. I hear him speaking, but I don’t make out very much. Then he hangs up.

“We were right.”

“About?”

“Marino is going after his original plan,” he clarifies.

I arch my brow.

“Salvatore was at the house a few days ago.”

My fist hits the table. “Why am I only finding out about this now?”

But you did know. She told you. She warned you he would be there.

“Eddie couldn’t get the word out to us.”

“And Viviana?” My mouth dries as I say her name. “Is she—” I stop myself. What do I want to say: okay, hurt, dead? Fuck. I don’t even know how I feel about all the options.

“Eddie says Salvatore was alone with her.” My fist clenches. “But it wasn’t for long, and he didn’t hear anything.”

It doesn’t make me feel good, regardless. Who knows what happened behind a closed door?

“Was she carrying her bag?” I ask, and Tony turns to me.

“He didn’t say, but I can check the bug.”

The room around us goes quiet as everyone waits.

Then her voice pierces through the air. Her scared voice.

It feels like I’m being stabbed. The men around me are tense. Luka’s jaw locked. Hearing her makes me remember, and I don’t want to remember.

The more she talks, the harder it gets to listen, but it’s my cousin’s words that have my fist clenching, and my stomach feels like there are boulders inside me.

“Turn it off.”

I can’t hear any more.

Why do you fucking care? She’s a traitor. Regardless of what I want to feel, the sound of her voice, the way she begged, pleaded, cried . . . I shake my head to myself. No.

She’s the one who ratted me out. This was all a ploy. But she tried to tell you that Salvatore would be there. You could’ve been set up. It most probably was a setup. But wouldn’t Eddie have known if it was and told us about it? Especially now, after the fact, that we didn’t fall for it.

A sinking feeling barrels its way inside me. Maybe I didn’t look at this right.

No.

I refuse to believe that. The timing was too perfect.

“What do you want to do?” Lorenzo asks.

He wants to know if I want to take back my wife.

“What do you think?” I ask. His eyes go wide. It’s not often I ask an opinion from anyone, especially on something like this.

“We can grab her. Or we can leave her. She betrayed you. Who knows what else she will say? She can tell them about this place . . .”