Page 123 of Savage Don

She’s scared, but her heart is mine for the taking. Buying her will make what’s destined to happen easier on everybody. It’s the only reason I’m so blasé about the disrespect Domenico is showing me.

Really, he’s the one I should be punishing.

But Francesca is ruining me. And even just the thought of dolling out punishment makes me hard.

She’s the only one who deserves the pleasure of my whip.

“I doubt you know everything,” the tomato faced Italian says, his dark eyes shaking with barely withheld resentment. The idiot is trying to tease me, test me. It’s not going to work out for him.

“No. It’s true,” I respond. “The only problem I ever have is proving what I hear.”

The subtle accusation clearly takes Domenico aback. Up until now, I’m not sure he actually believed that I was onto him, but now I can tell that the reality of his situation is bearing down on him.

His deliverance is nigh. We both know it.

And he must realize that I’ve given him the chance to take a bullet proof vest. Maybe then, he’ll survive.

All he has to do is sell Francesca to me. But these Italians are stubborn. Hell, look at how hard I’ve had to work for Francesca’s heart, and I only have the tiniest slice of it—not that she’s at the point where she’d admit it yet.

But I’ll get there. Somehow, I’ll break through her shields and show her that there’s only one person in this world who can truly protect her.

Me.

“If you want to accuse me of something, then have the guts to say it to my face,” Domenico growls, surprising me with his courage.

Is it courage, though, or is he just a cornered animal lashing out at the man who’s trapped him?

“There’s a rat in our midst,” I say, calling him on his bluff. “Someone has been going to the feds with information that could put our empire in jeopardy.”

“Who told you that?” Domenico immediately responds. “Artuzov?”

That raises my eyebrow.

“Who said anything about Artuzov?”

“I assumed you tortured him a little before he gave out on you,” Domenico fidgets. Just like that, he’s on the defensive. God, I love to see him squirm. “He’s always had a reputation for being able to get behind the feds yellow tape. Who else would know about this shit?”

“I would.”

“And how would you know?”

“Don’t forget your place, Galli,” I snap back. Going on the attack, I slam my fists into his desk, making the walls shake. “You need to answer my questions, but I have no duty to answer yours.”

“You do if your accusing me of what I think you’re accusing me of,” Domenico sneers back.

But it’s all a show. It has to be. He’s posturing.

“And what do you think I’m accusing you of?”

“I’m not a rat,” he says, crossing his arms like a defiant child.

“Then sell me your daughter and prove your loyalty.”

Before Domenico can step into my trap, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Usually, I wouldn’t answer, but the idea of disrespecting Domenico by taking a call in the middle of what’s essentially his interrogation sounds so delicious that I can’t help it.

“Listen, Byrne, I’m—”

Raising my palm into the air, I shut up the sweating Italian and rip my phone out.