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It seemed the Poles believed they could shatter the hold on the city we shared with the Bratva, even though there wasn’t a person in New York who didn’t know we were connected to the Russians by an unholy marriage, one that I continued to seethe about occurring. However, the sanctioned relationship had given both our families increased power, the South American Cartel backing down as if God above had a hand in the loss of hundreds of their soldiers.

“Please, Mr. Vincheti. I’ll do anything. Anything!”

I fucking hated it when they broke down. Next, Dylan would beg me for his life. I rubbed my eyes, my anger only increasing. I was getting nowhere with him, other than the confirmation he’d been forced to spill his guts. He knew nothing else, a pawn used to deliver a message. It was obvious, just an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Suddenly, there was a pounding sound coming from the front of the store, the doors to the bakery, another goddamn irritant I didn’t need. People died when I was cranky. Filip was a merciless son of a bitch. He acted as if territories didn’t exist, often ignoring his father’s rules in search of more power. The single run-in I’d had with him should have ended with me putting a bullet in his head. Instead, I’d honored certain rules established by my father as well as the Pakhan of the Bratva, both believing that by coexisting with the smaller organized crime families, continued peace could be maintained.

It was just another compromise I would never honor.

Sighing, I looked away, pacing the kitchen floor. The space would need to be disinfected by morning prior to the employees returning to work. Shit. Mama Lucia would absolutely kick my ass. La Travitorria was her baby, not to be fucked with, even by her grandson.

“How many additional addresses did you give him?” Goddamn it, the asshole was begging for me to kill him. “How many?”

“That was it. They only wanted five. I swear on my mother’s grave and my baby daughter. I swear.”

Brando lifted his eyebrows, shaking his head. Dylan had no way of knowing the names he’d selected had turned him into an executioner. If I didn’t put a bullet in his brain, his guilt would eventually force him into doing so.

“You should have come to me, Dylan. That was your fatal mistake.”

Just as I was prepared to make a decision on his punishment, I heard an unknown female voice, the strong, seductive tone yanking my attention away. I moved toward the swinging kitchen door, peering through the oval glass allowing a view of the bakery counter. While the lighting had already been dimmed in preparation of closing, the few overhead lights created a beautiful shimmer floating around her lithe body.

My cock instantly twitched, the wave of hunger unexpected.

“Thank you so much for letting me come in. I wasn’t supposed to be this late. Damn the airlines and damn this fucking city. I’m sorry.” The voluptuous woman laughed and immediately my balls tightened. “Please tell me you have eclairs. At this point I’ll pay anything for them. I couldn’t care less how much.”

Brando glanced at me, lifting his eyebrow. I placed my finger over my lips, listening to the limited conversation.

“No problem, ma’am. Looks like we have ten of them left.” Poor Michael’s voice was strained.

“Thank God. Now I won’t have to go home with my tail between my legs.”

The bakery closed an hour before the restaurant, the separate door supposedly locked. Yet as I moved toward the door, glancing out the small window allowing a full view of the limited space, my anger shifted to another level.

The women with the sultry voice stood just in front of the counter, her mouth twisting as she peered through the glass. As she tapped her fingers on the surface, I took a deep breath. Damn it. Why in God’s name had Michael allowed her inside in the first place?

Inhaling, I returned to the business at hand, images of the mysterious beauty remaining in the back of my mind.

“This is your lucky day, Dylan. Trust me, there won’t be a second one. Take our guest to the warehouse. Put him on ice. I’ll handle this issue later,” I threw over my shoulder then pushed my hand against the swinging door. The moment it was open by two feet, Dylan let out an intense wail, begging for his life. “And shut him the fuck up.”

I waited as my men dragged him toward one of two rear exists, Dylan continuing to wail. Fuck. It used to be easier handling issues. I rubbed my fingers down my jacket before pushing my hand in the swinging door and moving into the room.

The dazzling customer lifted her head, her eyes penetrating mine, her long curls dancing across her shoulders from the limited movement. I’d expected to see a look of horror or at least fear on her face from what she’d heard, but instead she appeared curious. Or maybe she hadn’t paid any attention. As I walked further into the area, her body tensed, a slight smile curling on her lovely lips. She was a stunning woman, her long raven-hued hair glowing in the limited light above the counter.

No, she was drop dead gorgeous yet there was a toughness about the way her jaw was clenched.

There was a crackle of energy driven through both of us, not quite a thunderbolt but the shockwave was enough her eyes opened wide.

While I was unable to see the color of them in the dimness, the way they twinkled added to her sultry appearance and voluptuous body. I was instantly drawn to her beauty, more so given her lack of fragility, which I was unaccustomed to. Just the way she was staring at me threw a gut punch, knocking the wind out of me. She dragged her tongue across her lips, defying the instant attraction.

Tell me, il mio bellissimo angelo, do you crave a taste as much as I do?

She was a beautiful angel, more so any other woman I’d come in contact with.

“Is there a problem, Michael?” I asked the employee, not bothering to glance in his direction. He was nervous, fearful I would retaliate for his decision to allow another customer inside.

“I would hope there isn’t a problem. It was two minutes before your closing time. While I apologize for coming in so late, rules are rules,” she said, the whiskey-laced molasses tone in her voice seductive and strong, managing to condemn me without even trying. The sound alone was enough to drive my cock to full attention.

I found myself drawn to her more than I had been with any other woman in a long time. She dared to move closer, as if she was planning on protecting Michael should I bring down the wrath of God.

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