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Again, because the terrified look in her eyes and the pink mark on her cheek tell me he alreadyhasstruck her once.
That makes him a dead man.
I slam into him like a train, knocking him off his feet so hard that one of his shoes actually flies off. I’m vaguely aware of the girl I shoved aside a second ago screaming as I straddle Silvio’s chest and start to hit him.
And hit him.
And fuckinghit him.
I pound his face until I feel the bridge of his nose and a few teeth break. Until I feel his orbital crack under my fist. Until blood ispouring from the pulpy, swollen mass that used to be his mouth and nose.
Until I feel, see, and know nothing but the satisfaction of inflicting pain on this piece of shit for touching Tempest. I ignore the cold, the raw throbbing in my hands, the screaming of the girl inside. I ignore it all…
Until a soft, gentle hand lands on my arm.
“Dante.”
I go still, my nostrils flaring and my blood roaring as I glance to the side. Tempest is kneeling beside me, her eyes locked with mine, filled with concern and yet also understanding as she touches my arm.
“You’re going to kill him.”
“I know. Tell me to do it,” I rasp thickly, my eyes locked with hers, “and I will.”
The girl behind me screams over and over even as I ignore her.
“Just say the word, and he’s fucking?—”
“Don’t kill him,” Tempest says quietly, shaking her head. “Please.”
I glare down at Silvio, who’s completely unconscious now. Standing, I kick him hard in the side of the ribs one last time, still ignoring the screams of the girl behind me.
My hand slips into Tempest’s and grips it tight.
“We’re leaving.Now.”
The near-lethal cocktailof emotions still roaring through my system when we get home is equal parts vengeance and fury, shaken with half a teaspoon of fear.
I don’t know what that motherfucker was prepared to do, or how badly he was prepared to hurt her. That’s where the vengeance and the fury come from. But Silvio isn’t the only one I’m angry at, and I know damn well that my wife knows it.
Tempest was silent the whole drive home from the gala. She remained quiet in the elevator, and when I opened the door to the penthouse.
She’s still mute now, looking almost meek as she stands in the front entryway, wearing her coat and looking scared as I storm across the living room to the bar cart. I pour myself a heavy splash of bourbon and knock it back before pouring another and whirling on her.
“What thefuckwas that?”
When I glance back at her, Tempest’s eyes are narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She barks a laugh. “I’m sorry, amIthe one on trial for that prick ambushing me and fucking slapping me?!”
“Wanna tell me how you managed to get yourself out to that courtyard in the first place?”
Her mouth purses.
“By following a complete stranger out there to smoke weed, right?” I snap.
Her lower lip quivers. “Fuck you, that’s not fair?—”
