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Antonio shrugs. “I’ve men in Rome.”
Spies, he means.
“And I’m hearing about this now?”
All three men squirm in their seats while Sandro studies each man’s expression. “Dante represents the Atlanta casinos. Conti controls everything else,” he casually states, like he’s explaining simple facts. “Although we Beneventi would never negotiate with that worm, it makes sense Dante would.”
“Rumor has it,” Antonio Jr. confides in a low voice, “that Lucchese resents your father’s position as capo di tutti capi.”
It happens so fast, no one’s prepared.
Sandro’s on his feet, gun drawn. “This is what rumors get you.” He shoots Antonio Jr. in the thigh. Then, with little consideration for his safety or for our environment, he puts a matching bullet into Antonio’s thigh. “And that’s for not sharing it sooner, Antonio Magno.”
He pulls out his wallet and tosses a wad of money on the table. “For the food and hospital bills. When we meet next month, I want proof.”
He snatches my arm, pulls me from the chair, and drags me across the room and out of the restaurant.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You shot them.”
He fastens my seat belt, then rounds the car and climbs in.
“Clean shots. They’ll be out of the hospital in no time. They should be thankful they’re alive.”
“How can you be so cavalier?”
He leans toward me and tugs my dress open to bare my breasts. “It’s what monsters do.”
I flinch.
He taps the ignition button, and the Maserati comes to life. With Sandro’s foot heavy on the gas, we accelerate out of the parking lot so fast, I tumble back in the seat.
He’s a madman.
A beautiful, cynical villain. “You treat all your dates to a fun night out?”
“Have I neglected you, baby? All evening, you played the innocent slut so perfectly, stuffed full of fake cock and eye-fucked by Antonio and his sons throughout dinner. But have you earned a reward or punishment?”
“I hate you.”
His expression tightens.
God, wrong answer.
“Is that so?” he sneers. “Punishment, it is.”
And then I feel it. The vibrator’s sudden quake.
“Say it again. I hate you, Sandro.”
“I hate you, Sandro.”
I jump as the vibration intensifies, then will my body not to respond.
“Louder. Scream it this time, so the folks back in Ohio can hear you.”
Tears fall. Because, as much as part of me does hate him, another side doesn’t. “I. Hate. You!”
