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A soft grin touches his lips. “Let’s get you home.”
Fingers entwined, he moves to walk away, but I pull back. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Thank you for saving me.”
He shakes his head. “I think you did a pretty good job of saving yourself. You’re a fucking queen, Sia.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
DIEGO
Ipace back and forth in Alessia’s bedroom, the faint sound of the shower echoing from underneath the closed door of her en suite bathroom. Blood still coats my hands, and I stare at it, reminiscing about slicing my knife against the throat of the fuckers who dared to lay hands on my fucking wife.
Wife.
Fuck.
This is all my fault—every last second of it.
She felt compelled to wear gold for me. Expecting it was a way toward forgiveness. She shouldn’t even want my grace. I’m an asshole. Sure, I’m still mad as fuck that she orchestrated something I not only didn’t see coming but also didn’t want. But had I not been such a dick, she wouldn’t have put herself in danger like she did tonight.
Not only that, I turned off all my devices. All ways to contact me were voided. Which means I missed the notifications that known associates of the Irish were present in her fucking city. All because I wanted to chase her around a forest like the selfish prick I am.
Lorenzo has tried to call me at least fifteen times, but he’ll have to wait. Alessia is my focus. If she wants to speak to me. Shit, she has every right to kick me the fuck out on my ass.
A loud bang ricochets through the house, and I move with purpose toward the sound, annoyed that it’s taken me away from where Iwantto be. Close to Alessia.
The front door handle jiggles with impatience, and I don’t have to check the security footage to know who it is. I input Alessia’s access code and place my thumb against the digital reader.
Salvatore Bianchi storms in without invitation the moment the locks disengage. His chest heaves with the seething breath that escapes his body. His eyes are black with rage, and his hands, fisted at his sides, tighten with a need to feel useful.
“Where is she?” He pushes past me, and I close my eyes in irritation.
I do not need this right fucking now. Sia doesn’t need this.
“Showering. Why is he here?” I point toward Narciso. “Who is on clean up?”
“Amadeo,” he answers. “I need to put my eyes on my sister.” He pauses at the threshold of her bedroom when he hears the shower. “Get her out here.”
I shake my head before he’s finished speaking.
“Don’t fucking shake your head at me,” he snarls, stepping closer, but I keep my ground, lifting my chin in invitation. “I want to see my sister. I want to see for myself that she’s okay.Goandgether.”
“No.”
He lifts a fist, pushing it against his forehead. “You mean nothing to me. Killing you will not remove my ability to find sleep. I have given you an order. Get me my fucking sister,” he bellows.
“You forget that I don’t work for you.”
He inches forward, our noses almost touching. His fury is potent, only diluted by the frantic worry widening the pupils in his eyes. I’m trying to remain understanding, but him being here removes my ability to have Sia alone.Iwant to be the one to make sure she’s okay. He forfeited his right when he twisted himself up in her plan to marry me.
“Salvatore.” Alessia’s voice reaches my ears before her brother loses all self-control and attacks me, and I’m disappointed. I would’ve loved to go head-to-head with the motherfucker.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He storms past me toward his sister.
She’s wrapped in a thick white robe, her red hair still dripping water from the shower.
“What has he involved you in?” He gestures back to me. “Ahunt? Do you understand how much danger you put yourself in?” He’s yelling, and I move slowly toward the twins, placing myself between Alessia and the bristling anger of her brother.
