Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I love her. I would die for her. I’d ask her to be my wife if I thought she would say yes.”
His eyes remained volcanic as he looked at me.
“And with all due respect, I don’t give a damn if you’ve got a problem with that.”
His angry eyes narrowed as his shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t want to kill you, Don. But try to come between us, and I fucking will.”
He inhaled a slow breath, pissed off and obviously in disbelief.
“She’s a grown-ass woman who can make her own decisions—and I earned her.” I slammed my fist into my chest. “I kept you alive when Lombardi played you. I killed all those assholes who attacked Francesca and hung the survivors from that historic oak. When that shithead disrespected her at the wedding, I defended her because she’s my woman and like hell will I let anyone talk to her that way. And if I hadn’t been here tonight, she would have been kidnapped or shot. Every single one of you would be dead if it weren’t for me—and don’t you fucking forget it.”
He silently seethed as he listened to me, his eyes like two angry bullets.
“This is not how I wanted you to find out. I intended to tell you before, but circumstances didn’t permit it. Not to ask your permission, because it’s not fucking 1905, but to inform you that I’m the man in her life. I love her and nothing—and I mean not a goddamn thing—will ever come between us. Come for me, and see what happens.” Threatening my future father-in-law was a bad move, but it was what I felt in that moment, and I always spoke my mind. I wouldn’t tolerate any bullshit, and I wanted it to be crystal-fucking-clear that he would never be able to get rid of me. Francesca would never turn her back on me. We didn’t have a single weak spot he could exploit. She and I would stand the test of time like the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Greek Theatre in Taormina.
A heavy wave of silence washed over us both as the staredown continued. He remained calm even in the direst situations, but the lava had turned molten behind his eyes. His stare flicked past me momentarily, like someone had come out of the house.
I held his gaze and waited for a response.
Footsteps sounded behind us, growing louder until they came to a stop somewhere behind me.
Then Don Mancini spoke. “Salvatore, let’s go.”
“Yes, Don.” Salvatore moved past me in a rush, getting behind the wheel like he knew what had just gone down between us.
Don Mancini looked past me at someone else.
I knew it was Francesca.
He held her stare with a sudden flurry of ice before he turned away and got into the passenger seat. Salvatore backed up and then turned around to head back in the direction of Don Mancini’s villa a few miles away.
“What was that about?” Leo asked.
I turned around and looked at Francesca.
The danger had passed, but she looked as white as a ghost. Her eyes were timid and fearful, already knowing exactly what had happened without hearing a word of our conversation. Then her eyes dropped down to my arm that was now solid red from the blood. “Wolfe.” She moved to me and grabbed me by the uninjured arm. “If I don’t patch this up, you’ll bleed out.”
Leo shifted his gaze back and forth between us, and within seconds, understanding spread like a mist. First, he had a distinct look of surprise that melted into recognition then surprise again when new questions entered his mind. He didn’t say a word before he turned around and headed back to his car. He started the engine, and the headlights blasted us with brightness before he drove off. But instead of heading home, he drove in the direction of his father’s villa.
“Come on.” Francesca tugged my good arm and brought me inside to the dining table. We had to step over the dead bodies and the blood before she pulled out the chair for me to sit. Then she moved into the kitchen and found her supplies in the cabinet.
After I took off my vest, I sat there and stared at the dead guys on the floor. Riddled with bullets that either came from Francesca’s gun or mine. The adrenaline was still there, lingering because one battle had concluded but another was on the horizon.
She pulled a chair next to me then yanked my shirt up to get it over my head.
It was soaked in blood, so I tossed it on the floor.
She carefully angled my shoulder and picked out the bullet with her tweezers before she immediately sutured the wound to prevent further blood loss. She worked quickly, like she already knew she’d lost too much precious time. Then she moved to the small wound on my arm, which seemed to have been caused by a bullet that grazed me. She cleaned it and sutured what she could then secured it in a tight bandage. “We should probably take you to a hospital just to be safe.”