“You have some things to explain,” I murmur against the side of her head before wrapping my hand around her ponytail and tugging her head backward. “Apologize to my brother for making him worry.”
Loosening my grip on her hair, I allow her head to lower. “I’m sorry, Antonio.”
Antonio groans loudly before capturing her mouth with his. There is nothing gentle about this kiss, each one of them battling for dominance while nipping at each other’s lips before breaking apart with a gasp.
She stretches her arms toward me, begging me with her eyes to accept her. I hesitate slightly before tugging her into my lap.
“I love you,” she whispers before kissing me gently.
My heart races—no, gallops—in my chest as my cock hardens, wanting to crawl within her skin, seeping her warmth into my blackened soul. “I love you,” I growl as she swings her leg over mine and straddles my lap.
“I’m sorry, Salvatore. I never should’ve…” Her head drops to my chest, and her voice breaks. “I love you both, all three of you, with every part of my being. I just hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for what I’ve done.” Celia rocks her hips, rubbing herself against me.
“Celia,” I groan, leaning forward and capturing her lips with mine. As I grip her hips tightly, her body moves with each thrust of my hips, bumping her clit with each pass.
“Yes,” she moans breathlessly as she grips the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss as a throat clears behind us.
“What do you want to do with him?” Matteo questions, pointing his gun toward the man threatening Celia.
Anger, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, fills my veins. We could’ve lost her today, and it would be this asshole’s fault. He made the mistake of coveting what doesn’t belong to him. Touching someone that was clearly off limits. And now he must pay.
I pull back slightly and plant a kiss on the tip of Celia’s nose before turning my attention toward my brother.
“Take her upstairs to the room. Don’t let her leave.” Unwrapping her arms from around my neck, I hand her over to my brother. “I have something to take care of.”
Antonio scoops her up in his arms and strides up the stairs without sparing a second glance. He knows what is about to happen. I need answers, and this man is the only one who has them.
Once I’m sure Celia is out of sight, I turn my attention back toward Matteo. “Look familiar?”
Matteo shakes his head no, gripping both the man’s hands before sliding his tie over his wrists, pulling it tightly and hauling him to his feet, and marching him toward a nearby chair.
“Have a seat.” Matteo forces the man to the chair, pulling his gun out and pressing it against his head. “Move and you die.”
He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m dead either way.”
“True. But depending on what information you have for us, we may kill you quickly.”
My eyes snap toward our prisoner, but I can’t place his face. What I can place is the rather large tattoo on his hand. “Irish. Interesting.”
The Irish haven’t had a real presence in this area since prohibition, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying to make a move. With infighting and arguing going on in the city, it’s easy for someone to sneak in unnoticed, but why now? The Irish haven’t been on our radar for years. It’s time we pay closer attention to their movements.
Matteo pulls back his arm and pounds his fist into our captive’s face. The captive’s head snaps back from the force of the punch. Blood pours down his face, his nose swelling across the bridge.
“You should untie my hands and make this a fair fight.” He scoffs, spitting blood on the ground in front of my feet.
“Who sent you?” His head shifts to the side, his brows pulling down in thought.
“I don’t know. Just a voice on the other end of the line. I was to come here once a week, get information from your whore, and then report back.”
“She isn’t a whore.” I lunge forward and grip his neck, squeezing just enough to make it almost impossible for him to breathe before letting go. Bending at the waist, I lean forward, looking him directly in the eyes. “You touched someone who doesn’t belong to you.”
“She belonged to me. She was my payment for a job well done,” he gets out before my grip tightens a second time. His mouth opens and closes, waiting for the moment he’s able to breathe again but having no idea when or if that time will come.
A rush of power shoots through me, knowing that I hold that power over whether this man lives or dies. Whether he is going to walk out of this building or if these are his final days on earth. “I’m going to ask you again. Who sent you?”
I release my grip, and he gasps, taking in large mouthfuls of air and collapsing forward. Matteo grips the collar of his shirt and sits him up straight.
“You thought you were man enough to deserve her. That you were man enough to protect her from the world.” I spit in his face as I circle the chair before pulling my knife out of my pocket.