“You fucking asshole!” he falls to the ground, clutching his family jewels while blood pours out his nose.
The first man rolls in the dirt, reaching for his gun, and I kick it farther out of his reach before snatching it from the ground, my newly acquired gun poised on his head.
“Don’t move,” I warn them both. “Or I’ll put a bullet in both of your heads.”
I rush around the opposite side of the house to chase after Dorian. I can’t focus on the two men tearing apart the inside of what was once my grandfather’s home.
Karina and Ashton are my priority.
I’m quiet and stealthy. It’s any wonder that the two thugs I disarmed don’t give me up. Are they as loyal to Dorian as he believes them to be?
Stalking up behind Dorian, I poise the gun against the back of his head. “Drop your weapon,” I command.
A dark cackle spills from his lips. “Well played, Aurielo.”
Ashton clutches Karina, but she shoves him behind her to protect her son.
“Leave us alone,” Karina’s voice doesn’t quiver as she stares down Dorian.
The girl has no fear.
Or at least she hides it well.
“Did he tell you he’s engaged to my daughter?” Dorian asks, as he slowly lowers his gun and slides it back into its holster at his hip.
Karina doesn’t flinch.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but whatever arrangement you previously had is null and void. I’m Aurielo Rinaldi’s wife.”
A grin spreads across my face, proud that Karina stands up to the bastard that tried to force me to marry his daughter.
Dorian turns around to face me. His second slowly lowers his weapon as well, but he doesn’t return it to its holster.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” Dorian says. His nostrils flare as he speaks. There’s no humor or warmth in his remark, only fire behind his darkened gaze. “Just remember, it’s till death do us part, and I’d say, my little girl, Etta, doesn’t have much to worry about.”
Dorian stalks past me, knocking into my shoulder as he heads for his vehicle. “Let’s go!” he shouts to his men for them to follow.
I want to run over and check on Karina, but I keep two hands on my gun, the safety off, prepared for a firefight.
Dorian and his men gather in their vehicles, leaving as quickly as they came.
That was too easy. If Dorian wanted my bride and son dead, he could have easily pulled the trigger.
He was delivering a message. He’s pissed that I didn’t follow through and marry his daughter.
A warning.
You don’t fuck with the Bianchi’s.