Every protective instinct I have roars to life—the same instincts that got me through Syria and Russia despite my freezing.The instincts that say: defend, protect, eliminate the threat.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, but we both know it’s a lie.She sets her clutch down on the marble countertop with more force than necessary.“But first, I need to tell you something.And then I need to ask you to do something crazy for me.”
I lean against the counter, grabbing its edge until my knuckles turn white, trying to look calm.The truth is, I’m already running through scenarios in my head.Who hurt her?How badly?What’s the surest way to make them suffer before I disappear with them?
Despite my murderous thoughts, I state in a neutral tone, “I’m listening.”
She takes a breath, and I watch her gather herself.Serena is one of the strongest people I know.She’d have to be, growing up as Giovanni DiLorenzo’s daughter.Right now, she looks like she’s barely holding it together.This sight is like a sucker-punch to my stomach.
“This morning, my father announced my engagement,” she starts.“To Cesare Dellamare.”
The name means nothing to me at the moment, but I file it away.That accounts for the urgency in the text she received this morning.
“I’m guessing you didn’t know about this beforehand,” I murmur.
“I found out at breakfast.The contracts are already signed.The wedding is in three months.”Her voice is steady, but the fury underneath seeps through her words.“I just spent three endless hours at dinner with him.With my future husband.”
The way she says “future husband” is laced with venom.
I nudge her.“Tell me about him.”
And she does.
She tells me about Cesare Dellamare, his place in the Italian underworld, his rise to power, and his connection to her family’s operations in Europe.She tells me about dinner, about the way he looked at her, the things he said.The plans he has for their marriage, for training her, molding her, controlling every aspect of her life.
With every word out of her mouth, my jaw gets tighter.
She tells me about the kiss, how he forced her into it, how possessively he claimed her.All the while, I eye the purplish red marks staining the soft skin of her arms.I know that’s where he gripped her.
The motherfucker squeezed her too hard.
A muscle ticks in my cheek, and I fear my teeth will crack under the pressure I’m exerting to keep calm.
By the time she’s done, I’ve listed about a hundred different ways I could kill Cesare Dellamare.Some quick, but excruciatingly painful.Most wouldn’t be fast, yet just equally agonizing.
“He kissed you,” I repeat her words as if I need confirmation, my voice coming out flat, dangerous.“Without permission.”
“Yes.”
Still double-checking that I’ve heard her right, I add, “You wanted him to?”
“God, no,” she counters without hesitation, her disgust crystal clear on her twisted features.
Her denial sets something fierce flashing through me.It’s a primal possessiveness that I have no right to feel.I’ve known Serena all her life.But she’s always been my friend Joe’s little sister.That alone makes her off-limits in every way that matters.And that fact has made me put on blinders, as Serena became a gorgeous woman impossible to ignore.
Over the years, I’ve hidden my own feelings for her even from myself.But right now, all I can think about is that Cesare Dellamare is a dead man walking.
“Where does he live?”I growl.
“Shelby—“
“I’m serious, Serena.Give me an address, and he disappears.Tonight.I’ll make it clean, no blowback on your family.”
I catch a glint of satisfaction in her eyes before she shakes her head.My offer tempts her.
“That’s not why I’m here,” she says softly.“If you kill him, my father will just find another Cesare.Another powerful man to sell me to.This isn’t about one predator.It’s about the system.”
She’s right, I know that much.But it doesn’t make me want to kill Cesare any less.
