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“He was acretino. I have others. They’ll find a way to ruin you.”
“You won’t stop until the building’s gone, huh?” Vicente asks.
“I can’t let you push the limits, Moreno. Then everyone’s going to think they can come to my territory and open businesses.”
“Hmm.” Vicente grabs both glasses of champagne and steps back, facing the man.
“Who is this?” he asks, and I can imagine him gesturing to me, but I continue to stare down the bar. “Why would you bring aputtanahere?”
“Puttana?” Vicente repeats. “Well, I suppose you’re kind of right, but she’s mine.My puttana. You know a little something about that, right?”
“Princesa,” Vicente says, immediately getting my attention. He holds a champagne flute up, but doesn’t extend his arm, forcing me to get closer.
I take the flute in hand and notice the man staring at me. I try to stay focused on Vicente, but he smiles and faces the Italian man.
“This is Mariella,” he states. “Mariella DeRosa. Mariella, this is Mr. Donati.”
Vicente’s smile drops as he stares at Mr. Donati. I attempt being cordial and switch the flute to my other hand so I can extend my right for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you.”
It takes a few seconds, because the man is focused on staring Vicente down, his jaw clenched tight while his chest heaves with barely controlled breaths.
He takes my hand in a firm grip. “Ciao, Mariella.”
I loosen my grip just as he glances down. His eyes find mine in a flash, and I realize he’s seen my brand. The scar of Vicente’s initials.
Mr. Donati studies me carefully, his eyes scouring every part of exposed skin like he’s searching for more scars. I almost respect the fact that he seems to be concerned about my safety. And then he’s frozen in place, his gaze stuck at the necklace around my neck. His eyes cut to Vincente. He’s probably trying to understand how a man can brand my skin with his initials and buy me expensive jewelry.
“Myprincesa,” Vicente says, kissing my temple. He leans closer to the man. “Myputtana.”
Vicente
ChapterTwenty-Six
“Come with me,” Donati says.
“Watch her,” I tell Tommy and Jian. I put my champagne flute on the bar and my lips next to her ear. “I’ll be back. Stay with them, you hear me?”
“Are you sure you should go with him?” she questions, fear in her eyes.
“I’ll be okay,” I say, caressing her cheek.
I follow Donati through a door that leads to a hallway. At the end is the manager’s office, and because this restaurant is his, he has the key. As soon as the door closes behind us, he spins around, his finger poking me in my chest.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Moreno? You’ve crossed a line.”
I glance down at his hand and back up at his face. “You know what they call me, right?El principe de las tinieblas.”
He sneers but takes a step back. “I know what you’re called, and I know why. You fear no one, right? You’re Satan himself.”
“At least I’m not a hypocrite. You’re a murderer yourself, Donati. You’ve been a terrible husband and an even worse father, and yet you cling to your Catholicism like it’ll make you a better person. I don’t care what people call me. I embrace it. I’ll be the Devil if it means I’m the one everyone fears, because if everybody is afraid of me, what is there for me to be worried about?”
He scoffs. “I’m also aware of your little hobbies. You’re sick, Moreno. Everyone with ears hears about the things you do with women. You’re a manipulative sadist. You use and abuse these women and then toss them away.”
“Every woman who is with me knows what I’m like. I’m honest with them. They know not to expect much out of me. You, however, have had how many wives? Three? What happened to them, Donati? What did you tell them?”
“They knew the life,” he spits. “They couldn’t handle it. Two of them ran off.”
