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ChapterSeven
Enzo
Fuck Gia.I was disgusted by what she’d been willing to do, how she’d have let that son of a bitch fuck her if I hadn’t stopped things. I scoffed. I hated her right then, but I still couldn’t watch her get fucked, couldn’t imagine another man feeling her perfect pussy around his dick. That was the only thing that was perfect about her. Her smart-ass mouth and Silvani attitude made her imperfect as fuck. I thought I could look past the blood coursing through her veins, but clearly neither of us could.
I fucked up, though. She was right, even if I hated it. We were on camera at his family’s hotel after murdering Jameson, all because I couldn’t stomach her handling a...business transaction.
What a goddamn mess.
The passenger door flew open so hard I thought it would break off the goddamn car. Gia sat down, her eyes wide with fear, and I ain’t ever seen fear on Gia’s face like that, not even when I put a gun to her head or someone threatened to take her pussy. There was usually a cold, stoic expression on her face that reminded me she was a Silvani. But not this time.
“What’s the—”
“There’s a hit out on my father.” Her words came out in a flurry.
“Wait, slow down, Gia. Explain.”
“On Jameson’s phone. A text came through that said one million for pussycat. That’s my father, Enzo.”
I rubbed the back of my neck.Goddamn it.Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. We were between a murder and a hit. If we stayed here, we faced repercussions from the O’Rileys. If we went back to the city, we faced my brothers. We’d face every damn family that considered my back turned on them. But I knew Gia. She’d go whether I went with her or refused. She’d go home to her father herself. What she didn’t realize was that there were hits on her, too, before we left. How could one target protect another? They both had goddamn bullseyes all over them. And on top of all that, like a plump cherry, was the fact that she didn’t trust me. Didn’t believe me. And fuck her if she thought I was going to risk myself for someone who didn’t even trust me.
“So what?” I said with a bite to the words as I slammed the car into reverse to get the hell outta Dodge.
She blinked hard beside me, and her mouth dropped open as if she expected me to leap at her words, jump like a dog to run into a war I wanted no part of.
Gia crossed her arms over her chest. “Take me home.” She squinted her eyes. “Back to my father’s.”
“Whatever you want.”
* * *
Drivinginto the city made my palms sweat. Atheist panted between us as I drove the familiar gridlocked streets to bring Gia home. Her home. She was so preoccupied with the text she saw, she didn’t care to mention the pictures that proved I didn’t do what she thought I did. She didn’t even look me in the eye as she gathered her bag, petted my damn dog one last time, and slammed the car door. It took everything in me not to follow her, but I refused to chase her. I couldn’t. It was better this way.
My head still cocked as I watched her walk away, at the sway of her full hips.
Fucking Gia.
I drove toward my family’s house, unsure what I would walk into. My brothers weren’t all that forgiving—I’d been the weak one to forgive Gia much too easily after she infiltrated our family—but they didn’t know her like I did. No one did. I knew the person beneath her façade, the one who needed to let herself be weak in order to love.
I pulled up to the long driveway, took the familiar turn, and drove until I found myself at the front of the mansion. As I pulled into the garage, the dam in my mind broke and flooded me with memories of Gia. With a long breath, I got out of the car and headed to the front door. The moment I stepped inside, guns were drawn on me, and holding them were people I grew up with, the people who raised me, even. A look of discontent washed across their faces, and I deserved it. They knew I’d run off with a Silvani, but beyond that, I didn’t know what they knew. They had to know that Bullseye was missing. Shit, they may have known that Jameson was dead.
I didn’t raise my hands in defeat or beg for forgiveness. I wasn’t going to beg for shit. I was the oldest. The business was mine.
I met Marco’s narrowed eyes. As the second oldest, he’d have taken up the role, but he was interim at best. Marco would be a good leader one day, just not today. He looked nothing like our father, and his quiet-but-deadly demeanor was the opposite of the brazen nature of our departed patriarch. He was the silent, brooding type. He’d breathe new life into the business one day.
“What you doing back here?” Marco asked, the silver barrel of his pistol in my goddamn face.
“Taking back what’s mine,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. The empirewasmine, regardless of the pussy I fucked or what lapse in allegiance I let happen. Enzo Viglione was next in line for the proverbial throne.
“Over my dead body, Judas,” Marco hissed.
“That can be arranged.” I put my hand on the butt of my revolver.
I liked Marco more than I liked Sammy, but I wouldn’t let him consider what was lurking in his mind. Sammy, the baby of the family, reminded me way too much of Silvio. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but I saw it in the way he leaned against the wall or puffed on a cigar. He was Silvio’s boy.
“Get your fucking guns out of my face. If you wanna fight over it, I’ll take ya, Marky.” I smirked at him, rolling up my sleeves. Marco waved his hand, and the men lowered their rifles.
“I’ll take you,” Marco said as he tugged off his t-shirt.
