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This is it.
This man will hurt me.
He falls on me. His heavy frame drops on mine, and I expect him to touch me inappropriately or to wring my neck. My heart gallops in my chest, my breathing labored. Did he hurt me? My back hurts, for sure. I push him away, and he falls on the floor, cursing in Italian.
Then, I see my father behind him, holding a vase.
I gasp. The vase he must have used to knock down Francesco.
Does this mean… what I think it means?
30
Matteo
I finish climbingthe stone wall to the second floor and fall on the wraparound Mediterranean-style balcony. According to one of the security guards I just beat to a pulp, they’re having the wedding tonight.
I was right.
Adrenaline pumps through me, expanding my veins and making every part of me aware of my surroundings. I decided going to the second floor and crawling over a window was the best way inside. My gun is heavy in my holster, concealed by my suit jacket.
The minute I connected the dots, I called my mom and told her to follow our Plan B. We set another one in place in case things went south. So she left her home, took the duffel bag with money and a burner phone, and went to a hotel. I’ll join her when I’m done—with Sienna by my side. I’m accepting no other outcome.
A few rooms are empty, the lights off, and the curtains drawn. I hear noise from the last one on the right and plaster myself on the outdoor wall between the rooms, moving quietly until I’m close.
“What are you doing?” says a male voice I don’t recognize.
“Get him,” yells another.
Fuck. My pulse skitters, and I increase my pace.
I notice the glass door is open because the curtains are dancing out.
Carefully, I tip my head, and it takes me a few seconds of the curtains moving to assess the scene.
Francesco is getting up from the floor. His security person, a tall and burly man, is holding Antonio, threatening him. Sienna is cornered against the wall, wearing a wedding dress, gesturing with her hands like she’s trying to reason with Francesco.
Blood boils in my veins.
Francesco gets closer to her, and she lifts her knee and kicks him in the crotch.
Pride surges through me, adding to the violent rush of blood in my veins. I stride into the room, reaching for my gun and fishing it out swiftly.
I pull off the safety and point the gun at Francesco. “Get away from her,” I growl.
Still trying to get upright, Francesco lifts his hands, sweat sheening his face. The man holding Antonio points a gun to his head. “Lower your gun,” he says.
“You first,” I say. “Sienna, come behind me.”
She walks up to me, exchanging a glance with me. I see the mix of gratitude and despair in her eyes and cock my head, silently telling her to stay behind.
“This doesn’t need to end badly,” Francesco says. “Leave my bride alone and get out, and I’ll forget you ever pointed a gun at me.”
“How generous,” I say.
“And her father will live, too,” Francesco says.
“She’s not staying. And you do what you want with her father. That’s not my problem. How about you get out of my way, and I’ll letyoulive?” I offer.
