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She’s mine.
Ella isn’t engaged to someone else. She’s loyal. She loves me. She’s meant for me, and me alone. She’s my One.
This isnothappening.
A switch flips, and rage like I’ve never known before explodes in me, leaving the shock of seeing my woman with someone else in the dust.
How dare this fucker touch what’s mine? How dare Ella let anybody else touch her? If they’re engaged, does that mean they’ve had sex?
All I see is red. Fucking red.
I pull my gun from my holster and take a few steps in their direction.
Santino’s hand shoots out to hold me back, his grip on my arm firm. “Jesus, man. Not here,” he growls close to my ear to get through to me.
Fearful cries erupt, and people run out of the way. Still, we seem to get away with it, the roar of the Formula One cars draining out any other sounds.
Santino speaks up to salvage the situation. “Please don’t be alarmed folks. This is a firearm drill, repeat firearm drill. We are doing a security check. All is in order.” He takes my gun and tucks it in the back of his pants.
All the while, my eyes don’t leave Ella and her mystery man. My nostrils are flaring as I watch them. I want to march over there and put a bullet through their heads.
As if reading my mind, Santino firmly repeats, “Not here.” And just to make sure I don’t storm off and do something stupid, he holds onto my upper arm. “You need to calm the fuck down.”
My muscles and veins strain against my skin; I’m ready to explode. Letting out a guttural roar, I push and shuffle against Santino’s hold, but he steps in front of me, restraining me with both arms now.
Sweat is pouring off me, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I will kill him!
I will kill this fucker and rip him to pieces limb by limb… and I will make her watch. She will never cross me like this ever again. And this time, she’s not going to escape her punishment.
I’m vaguely aware that Santino is talking into his watch and soon, a few of my men appear by my side. He instructs two of them to follow Ella, the other one helping him to drag me behind a building where we’re alone.
“That motherfucker is as good as dead,” I growl.
“Yes. But calm down first,” Santino says. I don’t think he’s ever seen me like this.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing body and mind. Santino hands me a bottle of water, and I gulp it down.
He’s right. I need to calm down and think this through. I look around and spot the VIP building. Throwing the bottle away, I hold my hand out to Santino. “My gun.” He hands it to me without hesitation. “You’ve got eyes on them?” I ask, and he nods. “Make sure they don’t lose them.” With that, I march towards the building and go into the restroom.
I need a few moments of privacy to gather myself. Splashing water on my face, I welcome the cool temperature on my overheated skin.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. But I don’t see me. All I see is the image of Ella, of my woman, throwing her arms around another man. The scene plays over and over in my mind.
Thank fuck, Santino was there to intervene, or they’d both be dead.
How did this happen?
How are things so fucked up?
What haunts me most is how happy she appeared. Did she ever look that happy with me? That content? What is he giving her that I’m not?
I rub my forehead.
The door to the bathroom opens and a young guy enters. I growl at him. “Out,” I bark, and he doesn’t hesitate to turn on his heels and flee the room.
If I look half as pissed as I feel, I wouldn’t want to be near me either. Never in a million years had it occurred to me I’d find her with another man… or did I?
