His cold, blue eyes slide back to Arturo. “You have wealth and power in Texas, and you showcase that to the world. No need to fawn over another Don’s power and wealth.”
Arturo jerks on the cuffs of his suit jacket but remains silent.
The short exchange revealed that the owner of this place is a mafia Don who is an ally of Stefano’s. I’m just not clear on whether Stefano is my ally or my enemy.
We pull up to the house, and Arturo’s two soldiers get out from the front of the limo and open the door. One of them reaches in to grab my arm and roughly pulls me out. Neither Stefano nor Arturo rebukes him or intervenes, nor do they when he grips my ass and squeezes it painfully. His fingers dig into my bare arm too, and I know I’ll have bruises in both places.
I shiver. When I was walking with Zeus, it was a warm day, and my light day dress was perfect. But now I’m cold and feeling more than a little exposed.
We climb the steps, and the door swings open. A butler nods to the men, ignoring me completely. The soldier shoves me inside, and I stumble across the threshold. After I catch myself from falling, I try to scan my surroundings, looking for a way out ora weapon, but I only have time to see the Sicilian coast painted on the vaulted ceiling. Which, while stunning, will do nothing to help me.
The guard grips my arm again, dragging me as we follow the butler, and it’s a struggle not to trip over my own feet. The sound of the men coming up behind us tells me there’s no possibility of escape. I’m vastly outnumbered, I could never overpower these men even if I knew how to fight like a badass vixen. Plus, I’m in another Don’s house, who takes his security to the next level to ensure no one gets in or out.
My lips tremble as I fight back tears. But as we enter a large room that looks like it’s used for gatherings or parties, my spine snaps rigid, and the threat of tears recedes when I see who is waiting inside.
Rosa Altera.
God, Ihateher.
Her perfectly poised, but malicious princess persona. The haughty look as she assesses me and clearly finds me lacking. The vicious viper smile while she taps her red fingernails against a glass of wine.
She walks toward me, her steps crossing over in front of one another like she’s a supermodel on a catwalk in her blood-red stilettos and in a form-fitting dress.
The gleam in her eyes is lethal.
When she reaches me, she stops and slaps mehardacross the face.
No one moves to help me, but I don’t care. I react without thinking much beyond,Oh hell no, bitch.
I curl my hand, pull my arm back, and slam my fist into her perfectly beautiful fucking face.
Her wineglass shatters on the floor as she screams in shock and pain. Some of the blood from her now-bleeding nose hitsmy face, but I don’t have any time to wipe it off before my scalp screams in pain as my hair is fisted, and my head is yanked back.
The soldier who’s been manhandling me is going to rip my hair out, and my scar from my old head wound throbs in protest. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain, even though tears sting my eyes.
“Enough!” Stefano barks, looking like he’s annoyed with the whole charade and glares at Arturo. “Control your daughter and your dog.”
Arturo gives a harsh look to the guard pulling my hair, and he releases me. Then he turns to Rosa and slaps her.
I jerk like I was slapped, a brutal memory of my father doing that to me surging forth. Rosa’s eyes swell with tears, and she whispers, “Daddy.”
I almost feel sorry for her.Almost. But she’s here with these men who are a threat to my unborn child and me, and who are involved in human trafficking. Any empathy I might have felt for her dies a swift death.
Rosa wipes the blood from her nose, her cheeks blooming red with humiliation, and she glares at me, her moment of vulnerability vanishing. “I want her gone.”
A man chuckles, drawing my attention to him as he pours a glass of whiskey at the bar. He looks to be a similar age to Stefano. His dark hair is smoothed back, and his eyes are sharp.
“Rosa, you have no voice, child,” he says coldly. “Let your father and the grown-ups handle this.”
Her cheeks now flame with humiliation, but she closes her mouth.
The man sips his whiskey as he regards me. “So. This is the woman Tommaso would burn the world for.” He lifts his glass in salute to me. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I wish I could say the same.” I lift my chin, refusing to cower. “And you are?”
“Oh, I like you.” His mouth curls into a sinister smile. “I’m Vittorio Candreva, my dear. Welcome to Palmero, my territory, and my home.”
I scan the room, making it look like I’m checking out the luxurious space when I’m really looking for some way to escape. “It’s a beautiful home. A shame I wasn’t here under different circumstances.”
