“Oh.” Her voice was small.
Ebasi!She wasn’t ready for this. What was I thinking?
But there was no holding her back. She didn’t wait for me to be a gentleman and open her door. Head held high, she marched to the entrance.
I hung back for a moment, entranced.
“What?” she snapped, hiding her fidgeting hands at her side.
A half smile played on my lips. “You look like you belong.”
Her eye roll sent a bolt of heat to my groin. Fuck me, I wanted her again. The idea of pinning her against the wall and daring her to roll her eyes again was intoxicating.
I shoved the plans I had to the back of my mind, opened the door, and resolved to finish this business quickly. I didn’t have to snatch her hand as she passed.
Poppy slid her fingers into mine and drew me along with her as she entered the building.
A few dozen Italians milled about, keeping their distance from my men. Only in the VIP area did the select few mingle. Rayko, looking worse for wear, stood talking quietly to Don Mancini and his enforcer.
Kneeling in front of them was the filth who’d raised a hand against my son. His hands were bound behind his back. One eye was already swollen and closed. Duct tape silenced his lips. The man was breathing hard, and I could already smell the piss as we glided past.
Poppy didn’t falter as I led her to the throne.
“It seems the pizza boys have already had a bit of fun with you,” I commented, sinking into my chair.
Poppy sat down on my knee. The feel of her round ass on my thigh was distracting—in the best way. She folded her hands on her lap and watched.
“Since this is a family matter,” Mancini said coldly, “I took my pound of flesh.”
I nodded. “As you should.”
The don looked between Poppy and me. There was a glint in his eye, but it was gone when he turned back to the scum and gave the commissioner a kick in the back.
The fucker whimpered as he fell forward.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I asked pleasantly. “Let the games begin.”
The crowd moved as a mass to center their focus on the action. Many of them still swayed. They’d had dozens of bottles of rakia, and since it was homemade, that shit was as strong as any moonshine. But the copious amounts of alcohol only brought out the animal nature of my men to its full strength. Wild men, like the berserkers of the northern lands, they were ready to fall on the commissioner with their bare hands, tearing him apart piece by piece.
With one crutch propped under his arm, Rayko reached down and pulled Dallas up by the back of his shirt. The tape tore from his mouth was a vicious rip. A knife slid through the bindings on the wrists a second later.
Shying away from my soldier, the commissioner rubbed his wrists. His one good eye darted about, assessing. Searching. But there was no escape.
“Do you understand why you’re here?” I cocked my head. The crowd demanded a show, and it was one of my favorite things to provide it. If the proceedings became too intense, I would pause them to whisk her away before we finished. But she was here, not hiding from what I was.
It feels like she belongs.
“Because I wouldn’t build your stupid shopping mall,” the commissioner garbled.
I loved it when they tried to be brave.
It made breaking them all the more fun.
“No,” Poppy snapped. “You struck my son.”
The commissioners face scrunched in wrath. It was comical with half his features swollen and bruised. It probably hurt like a bitch, too.
“Seriously? The brat put cuffs on me!”
