I bang on the top of the car, and it takes off. The rest of my men fill the other SUVs while Benito and Red make quick work of knifing the tires of the nearby cars.
Once that’s done, I motion for Red. He bars the cathedral doors and jets down the stairs, a grin on his face as he jumps into my car. People start banging on the doors, and it’s only a matter of time before they try to escape out the back. That door is barred, too. It’ll be a while before anyone shows up on my doorstep.
“I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Red jumps into the passenger seat as I take off, tires squealing.
“You doubted me?” I ask.
“No, I just figured one of us would be choking on his own blood right about now, but they barely put up a fight.” Red seems almost disappointed in the lack of conflict.
“The Fontanas and the Manchellos are old families with few heirs. You know this. We killed Horatio and his brothers. His mother and a few cousins are all that’s left,” Sonny intones from the backseat.
“Easy pickings.” Red reloads his gun. “I thought about popping them right then and there.”
“We spilled the blood that needed to be spilled.” I enjoyed every second of it. My retribution on both families was in no way swift, but it was still satisfying all the same, especially now that I have a Fontana bride.
“I need more. Those pricks—they didn’t deserve such quick deaths.” Benito keeps an eye out behind us.
“I’m just getting started, Benny.” My bloodlust is still raging, and the ones I really want dead—Leonard and Carmen Fontana—are still breathing. But I’m not going to let them off so easy. Not like I did Horatio and his brothers. The Fontanas are going to suffer before I let the axe fall on their worthless necks. Now that I have their daughter and sole remaining child in my grip, I’m going to twist the knife in their side and bleed them slowly. Which reminds me. “Sonny, text the account guy and tell him to wire the bride price to Leonard.”
“You’re really going to pay it?” Sonny pulls out his phone despite his surprise.
“I’m a man of my word. You know this.”
Sonny sends the text. “How long before we get that money back?”
“Depends.” I press the pedal farther, speeding toward my compound in the wooded hills outside the city. “Once I’m bored with torturing their daughter, I’ll finally end them. And once I do, all those assets will come right back to my family through my beloved wife.”
Red grins. “You’re going to wreck that poor, sweet, innocent girl.”
Benito laughs. “I bet she’s never even touched a dick.”
“A virgin? God forbid.” Red snickers.
“She’s a princess, boys. Of course she’s a virgin.” One I’m going to tear to shreds on my cock. Fuck, just the thought of it makes me hard again. It doesn’t hurt that she’s a beautiful little thing. Doe eyes and a curvy body. I’m going to fucking wreck her, and I’m going to enjoy every goddamn second of it.
3
LUCRETIA
The SUV pulls down a long drive. I’m pressed against the window, trying to memorize the grounds and how the gate works, how many men are guarding it. But none of that helps me, not when I realize there’s at least a dozen men at the tall wrought-iron gate.
We keep riding deeper onto the property, my hopes sinking with each spin of the tires. The house is far beyond the wall, maybe half a mile through trees and rolling hills. Even if I could escape the house, there’s no way I wouldn’t get caught before I made it back to the main road.
Defeated, I sit back. “Is this his house?” I ask the driver. “I mean, the Milani estate?” It has to be, but I want confirmation that I haven’t been taken anywhere else.
The driver doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me in the rear-view mirror. Chills race along my skin as I see the house appear up ahead. Even in the sunlight, the outside is a dour gray color, the stone rising three stories high. It’s not exactly a house from a ghost story, but it’s close and not at all what I expected. My parents live in an Italian villa, a replica from one of the most beautiful homes in Tuscany. Open and airy, it reeks opulence. This place—it’s closed off, dark.
We stop out front. There are two guards on the wrought-iron doors that lead into a small courtyard, where I’m guessing the front door is.
I wait for the driver to get out.
He doesn’t.
I sit for a moment, my fingers tangled together as I look around. “Am I supposed to get out?” I ask.
The driver stays silent.
I’m already on edge, my whole life upended and fear riding me hard, and now this guy is giving me the silent treatment. For the first time since all this started, anger flares inside me.