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Tommaso notices the flare of rage in his eyes sparks like a wildfire taking out a forest in its path. But there is no other violence from him. This is one of those moments where the saying, if looks could kill, comes to mind.
“Zio?” Her voice is like a lyrical melody, stealing my attention from her uncle, but for a long moment, I don’t glance her way. Instead, I inhale deeply, basking in the gentle fragrance that hits my senses as she nears us—candied apples.
A memory slams into my chest, into my mind as I recall my mother making them at Christmas. I was only ten at the time and she would make sure I got the biggest one. I would help her in the kitchen, twirling the sticky confection until I was drenched in it. My mouth and hands a deep red, but as I grew up, got older, the claret that now stains me is far from the innocence of sugary treats.
I finally twist my body to face her. To look at the woman who will soon be my wife, and to say I wasn’t ready for it, would be an understatement. She’s dressed in a pair of black tights that hug her long shapely legs. Her feet are hidden in a pair of soft pink ballet flats.
Her hair is bound in a bun at the back of her head, and her delicate neck is smooth and creamy. She’s not as tanned as the girls I remember from southern Italy. She’s fair, like a porcelain doll. Her back is straight, her shoulders back as if she’s not afraid. She should be.
She stops beside her uncle. Even though she’s tall, her head barely reaches his. And if she were beside me, she’d be at least a head and a bit shorter than my towering frame. Her hips have a slight curve, giving her an hourglass figure.
Her chest is barely there, her tits more than a handful. The top she’s wearing is pastel pink, just like her shoes, and it’s tight, showing off her slender frame. Her spine straight, chin tipped back with confidence, even amongst violent men. All that elegance and poise comes from her ballet classes.
My cock throbs at the sight of her sweet, candy innocence. And I want nothing more than to tarnish the pristine pink of her clothes and the porcelain smoothness of her skin. I swallow back the lump in my throat and focus on the here and now.
She’s exquisite.
More than I imagined.
But then, I have been stalking her like a creep in the shadows.
“Luna,” Tommaso mumbles as he turns to the girl who’s just entered, flanked by two bulky men in suits. “I need you to go now,” he informs her. “I told you there is no other way this plays out.”
“But—”
He shakes his head, pinning her with a glare so fierce, it has her cowering, and it’s the first time I see true fear in her expression. And I would be lying if I said it didn’t make my dick hard. The little dancer is capable of being scared, which will make this even more fun.
For a long time, she just stares at her uncle before she silently nods. Then, she turns those eyes on me, the soft olive green that greets me holds anger as she looks me over. I don’t move, allowing her to take me in from head to toe before she flicks those orbs on mine.
“Is this the only way you can get a woman?” she sneers, stepping up to me, her shoulders back and her chin tipped in defiance. My desire only seems to warm for her, heating my blood, as she stops in front of me. “It’s a shame.” The little dancer skates her gaze over me once more, her lip curling in disgust, and I can’t stop the chuckle that vibrates through my chest.
“Fire.” I tip my head to the side, regarding her with cool admiration. “I like it. More than I enjoyed you running from the table where I was seated.” Before she can respond, I tip my chin toward my men, who grab her arms and drag her from the warehouse. Her screams bounce off the walls as she curses me to hell.
Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m there already.
“Nice doing business with you,” I tell Tommaso, before I offer Valentino a look and nod in agreement to kill the bastard. Turning on my heel, I head out, following behind the two men I have that are trying to get my new wife into the back of the waiting town car.
I really should go with her and try to get to know her, but since I have my bike, I don’t bother offering her any more attention before sliding my leg over the cool metal and shrugging on the helmet. The rumble of the engine growls between my legs and I take off, knowing my men won’t be far behind as they escort my bride to the penthouse.
