My voice trembles, but I push the words out.
"I hate men like those, Damiano. Men like Alfonso Cruz."
His eyes narrow at me.
"Alfonso, he terrified me. People like him looked at me... like—like I was an object he could own if he paid enough. He thought his title gave him the right to buy me. He made me feel small. Like an object."
I look up at him, my eyes burning.
"Is that what this is? Am I just another transaction to you people? Just another toy to play with?"
His expression hardens. The domestic softness vanishes into a mask of cold calculation.
"Alfonso Cruz is a gnat," his voice rumbles. "A petty thief in a suit. But you are right to be afraid of men who view you as currency."
He leans forward, his large hands flat on the counter, face inches from mine.
"You’re here because Icareabout you. And because your brother knew exactly what was coming, Kat. Mateo wasn't a fool. He called me because he knew I was the only man capable of standing between you and those men.”
"I don't need you to do that," I say, my voice rising with desperate bravado. Challenging, wanting to see his true intentions. "I'll be fine. Mateo had men—a whole company of trained men. I can go back. They can protect me. I can tell the media what Alfonso did.”
Damiano lets out a harsh, bitter laugh that echoes off the room.
"You don't understand the world you have stumbled into, Kat. This isn't a business rivalry. Nicolo Guidicelli isn't just a corrupt politician like Aflonso. He is a monster who deals in the one commodity the rest of the mafia families refuse to trade: people."
He reaches out, his thumb grazing the line of my jaw. His touch is possessive. Terrifyingly firm.
"He is a trafficker. He moves people like they are cattle. And for some reason, he has fixed his sights on you."
He leans in closer that I can see the gold flecks in his irises.
"You have no choice,Dolcezza. If I let you walk out that front gate right now, you won't even make it to the airport. You will be in a crate in the back of a van before the sun comes up."
I find no emptiness in his warning.
"You are in my care now, under the shield of my family name. And that is the only thing on this earth that Nicolo fears. I am your only hope of surviving this, Katarina. Whether you like it or not."
I look into his eyes. I feel the sheer, magnetic power of the man standing before me.
And I realize the most terrifying truth of all.
I don't want to leave.
Chapter 17
Damiano
The sun shines through the arched windows of my study while I scan the documents on my computer. I’ve been staring at the same files—shell company registrations, shipment records—for hours and still nothing points to Argentina. I rub my eyes and sigh.
Nicolo Guidicelli is many things. A butcher, a thief, a man who trades in human misery. But he is not better than me at concealing his tracks.
He’s good, but not that good.
In our world, business leaves a trail. When someone moves into new territory, I should be seeing front companies, bribes flowing into customs officials' pockets, bank accounts funneling pesos into Cayman laundries. But I findnothing.
La Famigliadoesn't allow members to branch out into new markets without the organization taking its twenty-percent cut. If Nicolo were doing business there behind our backs, it wouldn't just be an insult; it would be his death warrant. And yet, the deeper I dig into the financial sub-layers of the Argentine ports, the cleaner it looks for him.
Too fucking clean.
