63
Zayne (38 years)
Parking the rental around the water fountain, I stared up at the castle in front of me. The last time, I’d been here, I’d found my wife again. A different version in her personality but the same pussy I’d fucked before. She might’ve had some vendetta against me for wanting to play me against a woman who was just a friend, it led to just one conclusion, Ria was jealous or maybe I’d missed something.
Now, I was going to meet the man who’d taken her away from me and I had no idea what would come off this meeting but if it meant death then so be it. Only, I intended walking out of this place, come hell or fucking highwater and with my wife.
The door opened before I even had a chance to knock. A middle-aged woman greeted me with a warm smile and beckoned for me to follow before I could introduce myself. I guessed that security at the bottom had already briefed everyone of my visit or I was expected well before. Someone always seemed to be one step ahead and chances were it was family. Just not mine.
I was led into a large living room that was probably only seen in movies. There was no fucking way, people lived with this amount of colorful décor. I preferred neat cut lines of black and white, like my fucking soul.
“Mr. Morrone.”
I turned. People have called me many names and yet intimidating always stood out. However, the man walking toward me would probably make even the United Nations stand up and take note, leave alone the fucking devil. Confidence oozed out of his three-piece suit with the arrogance of a man who knew he owned the world. And I thought I was a scary fucker.
I continued to study him, trying to gauge where I’d seen him before. Photos yes. In person never. I was sure of it. Yet, some indistinct tingle suggested I had. For some reason my mind was blank. He was older than me. I could tell, not just in the assertive posture but that expression that easily read, don’t fuck with me. Threads of silver darted through his black hair and his gray eyes tightened as he observed me with the same icy edge flashing in mine.
“Mr. Salvatore,” I greeted, my tone just as steely.
“Would you like to sit or is this going to be quick?” Despite the cold dismissal, he gestured to the couches.
“This is not a social visit, I’ve come to take back what’s mine.” I tried to control the annoyance tightening my shoulders and moving gradually down my spine.
He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. “You’ll pardon my stupidity if I say I have no clue what you want from me.”
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I growled. “Where is Ria?”
He eyed me for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if it was skepticism or arrogance. “If you’re referring tomy wifeGianna then I think you’ve been misinformed about her whereabouts.”
“I’ll make this simple. Either you tell me where she is, or I’ll burn this entire fucking castle to the ground.”
“You must love her then if you’re willing to die for her. Because the only way you’ll burn this fucking castle to the ground is if you’re going down with it.” There was an eerie calm to his words like the man had no soul or possibly one so black it blinded him to everything else. We stood there glaring at each other, not backing down and I was a second away from yanking out my Colt, when he asked, “what made you think you’d find your wife here, Mr. Morrone?”
The quiet tone startled me for just a second. “None of your business,” I muttered.
“She is my wife, and this is my home, so it’s safe to assume that it’s my fucking business?” The clenched jaw emphasized I’d just stepped on the wrong fucker’s toes. Like I cared.
“You’re a criminal, figure it out,” I scoffed, my patience running on thin ice.
“Good choice of words for a man of your caliber. I believe it’s a sign on the dotted line if you can afford me, no questions asked, correct?”
“Seems you know of me then? Well, let's cut a long story short, shall we? I was married to Ria Singh or Gianna if you prefer, and she disappeared. Then I found out that Ria and Gianna are the same person, we fucked about four years ago, she died, apparently and I believe she’s alive.” I watched his jaw clench on those last words and guessed he didn’t know. “Short enough for you?”
“If my wife wanted you in her life, she would’ve made time for you, Mr. Morrone. So the fact that you are here means she’s not interested in being with you and if she were, I’d make sure that never happened,” he sneered, his tone dripping steely censure not to fuck with him.
Fuck that. I took a step closer. He was a head taller and bulkier than me, I didn’t give a shit. “You might be a mafia don, but I can tell you right now thatyourbeautiful wife’s cunt weeps for my cock. And if you’re a betting man. Let’s see whose cockmybeautiful wife’s cunt prefers, shall we—”
“Sir, we have a situation.” My words were cut off as someone hurried into the room. Salvatore and I both turned. “Oh, fuck!” The words were out of Julian’s, Ria’s bodyguard, mouth as he froze, catching sight of me. His shocked gaze pinged between me and Salvatore. I smirked while Salvatore scowled, telling me he was aware Julian knew me.
“What situation, Julian?” Salvatore barked, unfreezing the man’s stance and he neared us.
“It’s Gianna, sir.” His statement pricked up ears. “She’s been taken?”
“What the fuck do you mean taken?” I roared, earning a frown from Salvatore.
