Page 66 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

Silence.

“You better fucking answer me.”

“Sarah.”

“Fuck.”

“Boss, I can explain.”

“Get to the fucking dock.”

I end the call and exhale through my teeth. What the fuck is he doing?

Donnelly’s dead. Somebody dumped a city inspector into a fucking lake inside my territory, and I still don’t know who did it. Romano’s digging into shit that doesn’t concern him. Now my cousin’s fucking my girlfriend’s best friend.

“Fuck!” I slam my hand into the wheel.

Get it out now, Michael. You don’t lose control. You use it. I roll my neck and focus on the road.

The gates open and Adam’s already in position. I stop and lower the window.

“Boss,” he says. “Romano’s inside with Marco. Luca just pulled in. Exits are covered.”

I undo my cuffs, rolling my sleeves up.

“He talk?”

Adam shakes his head. “No. Thinks he’s here to inspect a shipment.”

“Good.” I meet Adam’s eyes. “Let the fucker stay comfortable.”

His mouth twitches before he steps back. I pull forward, my focus locking on the warehouse. Luca’s waiting right at the door the second I kill the engine and step out. The door swings open, and he’s already spilling apologies before I can even look at him.

“Boss, I know I should’ve sent her home—"

“Shut your fucking mouth, Luca.”

I brush past him and walk into the building. Romano’s planted in the middle of the main floor, chatting easy with Marco. He spots me coming, and for a split second, his eyes widen before he plasters on that fake-ass smile and steps forward, hand outstretched.

“Mr. Amato,” he says.

I look at him standing there smiling while Donnelly’s bloated face flashes through my head. Everybody suddenly thinks they can test me. I slide my family crest signet ring over to my right hand.

“So good to see you. Marco here didn’t say exactly—“

My fist cracks into his jaw before he can finish the bullshit. His head snaps back, blood exploding from his split lip, spraying across the floor and flecking my cheek. I wipe it off with the back of my hand.

Romano crumples to the ground, clutching his face. “Mr. Amato,” he whines, voice all shaky. “What the—"

I snatch him up by the collar, yanking him close, then drive my Italian leather Oxford straight into his ribs. There’s a loud crack. He gasps, doubling over, but I don’t let go.

I get right in his face, breath hot on his skin. “You think you can run your fucking mouth about my company? About me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

He’s shaking his head, eyes wide with terror. Part of me wants to put a bullet in his skull and call it a day. The smarter part knows I’ve already got one dead body causing problems.

“No!” he croaks.

I hurl him down hard. He hits the concrete on his knees, scrambling but not getting far.