Matteo is behind the massive oak desk, elbows braced on the surface, fingers steepled.Dario lounges in a chair nearby, legs crossed.His eyes are alert, assessing.
After closing and locking the door, Nico stands with his back to a wall, like a sentinel.
“Proof-of-life call went through about an hour ago.”
I nod.
“Russo insists it was coerced.”
All gazes lock on my face.
I shrug.What else did they expect?That she’d call her daddy and be happy about it?
“She’s unharmed?”Matteo presses.
“You have my word.”
“Unlike you.”He nods toward my temple.
Reluctantly I press my fingers against the knot that has formed there.No doubt there’s dried blood there too.Not that I give a fuck about that.There are still cuts on my knuckles from a lesson I doled out last week.Once an enforcer, always an enforcer, even if my oldest brother wants me to leave that kind of behavior for others.“She got in a lucky shot.”
The three of them exchange glances.
“No easy feat,” Dario observes.Maybe with a hint of admiration.
She attempts things no man would.And she succeeded where many have failed.I will not underestimate the Russo princess ever again.
“And your plan now?”Matteo leans back, eyes narrowed.
I meet his stare, unflinching.“I’m going to marry her.”
Silence echoes through the room, as powerful as a gunshot.
Resolute, I fold my arms.“She informed her father before I came over here.”
The words drop between us and detonate.
Matteo’s fingers whiten on the edge of the desk, and his eyes narrow with cold calculation.It’s the same intensity that he wears when he’s deciding whether to pull a trigger or let someone live long enough to regret their choices.
My pulse is a heavy, steady thud that travels down my sternum and settles low, where the memory of Valentina’s hips rocking against me still burns.
Dario lifts one eyebrow, but there’s no smirk this time.Just the sharp glint of a man who sees the ledger already bleeding red.
Nico doesn’t move.He never does when the storm is breaking.
But I feel the shift in him anyway—the way his shoulders settle a fraction tighter, the minute flex of his jaw.
His eyes stay locked on mine, reading every microtwitch of muscle, every breath I take.He already knows.Of course he knows.
Her call to Fabrizio happened close to an hour ago, and the consigliere network moves faster than blood through veins.
Matteo exhales through his nose, the sound rough.“You’re going to marry her.”The words come out flat, but I hear the blade beneath them.
I nod once.“Tomorrow.”
The room goes stiller.
Dario lets out a short, disbelieving breath that sounds almost like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.He pushes to his feet, the chair rolling back with a low rumble across the hardwood.
