Page 50 of The Kingpin’s Bride

“Coincidence is a hell of a thing. Almost like someone who knew the Vernizzi bloodline was a dead end decided to speed the process along. And now that same someone has the perfect little hole collared and breeding. Efficient. I can respect efficiency. She always did look best when she was scared and wet.”

The crude words landed exactly where he intended them to. A couple of the older dons exchanged glances. The insult was deliberate. He wanted a reaction. He wanted me to lose control in front of the table so he could claim he had gotten under my skin.

I stood.

The movement was slow. Measured. Every eye in the room tracked it. I walked the length of the table without hurry until I stood close enough that Dario had to tip his chin up to hold my gaze. The gold chain at his throat caught the low light. The faint scar from the knife I had turned against him sat under his shirt. I could smell the fear under the cologne, sharp and acrid.

Dario tried to hold the stare. His mouth twisted into another ugly little smile, but the color had pulled from under his skin.

“You put your hands on my wife,” I said. My voice stayed quiet enough that only the men closest to us could hear the exact words. “You put a knife to her throat. You spoke about cutting her. You tried to take what was mine. And now you walk into this room and imply that the man who holds the Vernizzi seat is a liability while talking about her like you have a claim. You’re a laughable little man.”

Dario’s throat moved. The bravado cracked further. Sweat slid down the side of his neck.

“I’m just saying what half the city is whispering,” he tried, voice thinner now. “The warehouse was clean. Too clean for Bratva muscle. And the girl, my girl until the auction, ends up the exact solution the new seat needed. I’m not accusing. I’m observing. Observation is free. Besides, she always did get wet when men talked about using her. You should have seen the way she used to shake on that secondary stage. Pretty little thing. Does she cry when you fill her, or does she just take it quiet like a good whore?”

The last sentence came out too fast, too desperate, the scumbag in him trying to reclaim ground even as his hands started to tremble at his sides.

I stepped closer. Not enough to draw attention from the full table. Enough that he had to tip his chin higher. Enough that the fear in his eyes finally overtook the crude performance.

“You are finished speaking,” I said. The words were soft. Absolute. “Any further speculation about the warehouse will be treated as an attack on the seat itself. Any further mention of my wife’s body, any crude word, any implication that she was ever yours, will be answered personally. You will leave this estate. You will stay away from After Dark. You will stay away from every holding connected to the new seat. And if I hear your name attached to even one more rumor, there will not be enough left of you to identify. Do you understand me, Rizzo?”

Dario’s breathing had gone shallow. The gold chain at his throat jumped with every rapid pulse. He looked at the older men for support and found none. Esposito’s face remained carved from stone. Greco watched with cold interest. Leo’s silence was heavier than any threat. Santino’s eyes never left Dario’s face. And Grimaldi was busy on his phone.

Dario swallowed hard. The cocky edge collapsed into something raw and cornered.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I understand.”

“Good.” I did not move back. “Now get out of my sight before I decide the Families would prefer a cleaner solution to the problem you just became.”

Dario turned and walked out between Greco’s men. His shoulders were tight. The back of his neck flushed with the particular humiliation of a man who had just been told what he would do and found he lacked the spine to refuse in front of witnesses. The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

The meeting resumed as if the interruption had never occurred. Shipments. Borders. The usual quiet threats. I returned to my chair, posture relaxed, expression blank. Inside, the violent thing under my ribs paced like an animal that had just been shown a target and told to wait.

My mind went straight back to Morena.

To the way her blue eyes had looked up at me while I buried myself to the hilt and ordered her to come. To the soft, broken cry she made when the orgasm tore through her. To the way her sweet pussy had milked me in long, helpless waves while the cream kept every sensation sharpened to the edge of pain. To the thick, filthy mess I had left between her thighs. To the collar locked around her throat and the knowledge that she was in my penthouse, waiting for the next time I decided to use what I had paid to own.

I wanted her throat under my hand. I wanted her eyes on me while I pushed back inside that tight, creamy heat and reminded her exactly who she belonged to. I wanted her to feel every inch while I told her the truth she knew.

You’re mine. Every hole. Every orgasm. Every breath. And the entire underworld watched me prove it.

When the formal portion of the meeting finally ended I stood, shook the hands that were offered, and ignored the ones that were not. Leo remained seated until most of the room had cleared. When he finally stood he crossed the space between us with the unhurried calm of a man who had never needed to rush in his life. He stopped a few feet away.

“Careful,” he said. The word was neutral. The warning underneath it was not.

“I am always careful.”

Leo’s mouth moved in something that was not quite a smile. Then he turned and left without another word. Santino caught up with me near the elevators.

“You handled that cleanly,” he said.

“I handled it the way it needed to be handled.”

He studied me for a long moment. The silence had weight. “Dario is a problem with a simple solution. You know that. Why is he breathing?”

I met his eyes and let a fraction of the truth show through. “Because the girl I bought begged me not to kill him. Until I know why that request matters to her, removing him creates a different problem. I do not leave loose ends I have not fully mapped out.”

Santino’s expression did not change, but something unreadable moved behind his eyes. He did not press. He simply nodded once and stepped back as the elevator doors opened. I rode down alone.