Luiggi sighs. “Scemo wanted to show her your cars.”
Minchia.
My hand flexes as Bianca slides behind the wheel. I removed the garage’s intrusion detection system so the cleaning staff could move freely without anyone near my vehicles triggering the alarm.
A costly mistake I watch in high definition.
Bianca’s first attempt to drive through my garage door should’ve been a sign that she’s not getting through reinforced steel. But Trouble wouldn’t live up to her name if she didn’t try again.
And again.
The crunch and clang of my collector’s item colliding with steel roars through the computer.
“Where is Scemo?” I check my watch.
Tires screech before Bianca rams the gate again.
Luiggi is quiet before he says, “We sent him home once the physician cleared him to leave. He’s under concussion protocol.”
Another crash.
Her attempts to steal my vehicle and demolish the gate trigger the alarm.
“Open, you dickhead!” Bianca shouts through the rolled-down window at the garage door that won’t budge. It’s a miracle the airbag hasn’t deployed. The front of the car is totaled.
“Did you handle him?”
The engine sputters.
“Don’t you quit!” Bianca jerks the steering wheel.
“We found him unconscious in her cell,” Luiggi says.
My lips twitch.
Fucking Trouble.
Security surrounds my vehicle now worth the fucking cost of a can opener. I’m about to text my cousin that his four-million-euro gift with hybrid technology I never drive is shit when my vision turns red.
Every breath burns my throat watching Bianca be pulled from my mangled Lamborghini. Her hips jerk and her arms windmill as two of my security grab her by her hands and feet. She’s slammed against the car, knocking the air from her lungs. Her eyes widen. She winces at the man in front of her and swings at him when he goes to grab her again. The jab is clean; she follows with a cross and an uppercut.
“I’m sorry, boss.” Bianca going to work on my men trained in hand-to-hand combat drowns out Luiggi’s apology.
My brow quirks at her heel driving into one of my men’s feet who grabs her from behind. The back of her head collides with his face. She spins, introducing her elbow to his nose and kneeing him in the balls. She doesn’t break a sweat defendingherself against three men who become eight after one radios for help who she then tosses over what’s left of the hood.
Bianca knocks out two more men before she’s subdued.
“I want everyone who put their hands on her to choose a bullet or knife in theirs,” I growl into my phone. “I trust you’ll handle it.”
“Yes, boss,” Luiggi says.
“Send them to the operating room once it’s done. I’ll deal with you later.”
I disconnect the call and rub my temples. This fucking woman might kill me before the Preda tries.
Bianca’s escape should send me over the edge. She fucked up my garage and beat down my men. My dick stirs at her exertion and the promise of her fury.
A smile finds its way through my scowl.
