But the man in front of me? He wouldn’t hesitate to murder someone in cold blood. He looked like he was itching for it.

The drumming of my heart reached a fever pitch.

Less than an hour ago, I’d been agonizing over Dante and over the moon about hosting the Legacy Ball.

Now…

There was a possibility I might not make it to the next morning, much less the ball or my wedding.

CHAPTER15

Dante & Vivian

DANTE

“This better be important.” I put my phone on speaker and shrugged off my jacket. “This is the first damn break I’ve had since I landed.”

My trip to San Francisco had been a whirlwind of meetings, photo ops, and dealing with people whose heads were so far up their asses they’d require surgery to see daylight.

I’d barely slept in the past forty-eight hours, but we were finally closing the deal with Franco Santeri in two hours.

Until then, I wanted to shower, eat, and, if I was lucky, grab some shuteye for five minutes.

“It is. There was an attempted robbery at the Lohman & Sons flagship store in New York.” Giulio, my head of corporate security in North America, cut straight to the chase. He was one of Christian’s men, but he’d worked for me for so long he answered directly to me instead of Christian. “We apprehended the perpetrators before they escaped. They’re currently in our custody.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“One of the security guards was knocked unconscious and has a concussion. Other than that, no, sir.”

“Good. Take care of it the way we usually do. Make it clean.”

There hadn’t been an attempted robbery of a Russo Group property in two years, but fools were born every day.

I kept to the right side of the law when it came to finances and boardroom dealings. But when it came to people who tried to steal from me? I had no qualms about making an example out of them.

Shattered bones and blood. They were a universally understood language.

“Of course,” Giulio said. “But, ah, that’s not all.”

I checked the time, my patience running thin after a three-hour bullshit meeting on projections that could’ve been an email. “Get to the point, Giulio.”

There was a short pause before he said, “Your fiancée was in the store at the time of the attempted robbery.”

My hand stilled on the clasp of my watch. “Vivian was in the store?”

“Yes, sir. She was shopping and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Blood roared in my ears, and a sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. “How is she?”

“She’s shaken up. One of the robbers held her at gunpoint when she was too slow getting on the ground, but our men neutralized the situation before she was hurt.” Giulio coughed. “Your brother was there as well. He was on shift today, and he was the one who secretly called for backup.”

All our employees at high-risk locations like jewelry stores wore custom watches with disguised panic buttons. It had been Christian’s idea. Criminals expected panic buttons under a desk or near the register; they didn’t expect it on a watch, which was both discreet and easier to access.

But I wasn’t thinking about the effectiveness of our security protocol right now.

One of the robbers held her at gunpoint.

Blackness snuffed out my vision. When it returned a split second later, rage drenched the room in crimson.


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