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“Why?” She took a second step, closing the distance between them by a fraction more. “You’re going to kill me anyway. Just do it,dannato codardo.”
“Coward?” His snarl almost had her retreating, but she steeled herself against the flash of fear and took another step forward.
“Coward. Bastard. Sniveling worm unworthy of eating the dog shit on the bottom of my shoe. Take your pick,Uncle.”
“You ungrateful little brat.”
She saw his intent in his eyes a split second before he lifted his arm to strike her. As soon as the gun shifted away from her heart, she dove for him. Her aim was off, and instead of toppling over as she’d intended, he stumbled backward into the bookshelf. Hard, stiff volumes of classic literature rained down on them. The corner of something particularly heavy caught her just above the eye and she hissed at the flash of pain and the warm, sticky river of blood suddenly clouding her vision.
“Filthy bitch!” Gio jerked free of her hold enough to give her a hard shove back into the desk. The unforgiving wood caught the base of her spine and she went to her knees with a cry.
Find the gun. Get away.
Pain radiated up through her spine as she crawled away from the desk, away from him, her eyes frantically searching for that telltale glint of silver.
“Looking for this?”
Cold, hard steel pressed against the back of her head and she froze. Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength. No matter what, she would not give him the pleasure of hearing her beg for her life.
The splintering of wood and an inhuman roar had her eyes popping back open. Tears of relief filled her eyes at the sight of the man filling the doorway.
Daddy.
There was no warning shot, no order to drop the weapon. Just the softpopof the gun in his hand as he fired over her head.
Gio’s revolver clattered to the floor in front of her. Snatching it up, she scrambled to her feet and spun to face the man she’d considered family.
“Piccolina.” Emilio was there beside her, running his hands over her, checking for injuries while she stood with the gun trained on their would-be murderer who was currently writhing on the floor, holding his bleeding shoulder.
“He killed my parents.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded distant and hollow.
Emilio stopped his frantic examination and straightened. “You’re certain?”
“He told me. I was meant to be in the car, too, he said.”
“Well.” Looking down at the writhing figure on the floor, Emilio tilted his head. “Would you like me to take care of him for you,amore mio?”
“No. He’s mine.”
“Very well. But be quick. Father Russo is waiting on us.”
It should have been ridiculous to think of getting married after what had just happened, but somehow, it felt exactly right. Crouching beside the man she’d called uncle, she pressed the barrel of the revolver into his forehead. “You stole my family from me. You raised me to be a killer and robbed me of my childhood. I was nothing more to you than a commodity, just like the boys and girls you decided were a product to be bought and sold. This is far more merciful a death than you deserve. But I refuse to let you ruin my wedding day.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d watched the life drain out of a man’s eyes. And the odds were high that it wouldn’t be the last. But it was certainly the hardest.
“It’s done,piccolina. Come here.”
She jerked away when Emilio tried to take her by the arm. “Not yet. Don’t touch me yet.” If he touched her, she would shatter, and nobody in this house could see her break. Not if she were to take her rightful place as her father’s heir and head of the Vitali family.
Rising, she brushed at the stiff skirt of the maid’s uniform she’d all but forgotten she was wearing and turned to face the man who professed to love her. “I will need to speak with my men at some point later today.”
Pride flashed in his eyes, but he did not reach for her. “You’ll need help determining who you can trust and weeding out the ones who were loyal to Gio and his vision.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Shall we keep the families separate, then?”
“No. We’re stronger together.”
