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His guards nodded at our car as they opened the bulletproof gates and we drove up to the entrance of his mansion. As soon as the Sprinter pulled to a stop, I immediately opened the door, needing some fresh air as Roberto slung Rico over his shoulder.
Lorenzo rapidly padded down his stone steps to greet us with a look of confusion when he saw the unconscious man dangling next to me.
“I need to use your cellars,” I commanded, my tone giving away just how stressed I was.
“Okay. Do I dare ask?” Lorenzo smirked, folding his arms across his chest as Roberto made his way to the stone building at the side of the estate that led down to the underground cellars where they had secure torture chambers.
I pushed past him and started up the stairs. I heard Fabi chuckle behind me, “No. I wouldn’t if I were you. You wouldn’t want to know.”
I marched into the living room, heading straight for his bar in the corner of the room. Pouring myself a large bourbon, I knocked it back in one go, hissing at the burn it caused but the simmering rage remained.
I heard Fabi and Lorenzo enter behind me and then the sound of clipping heels that sent an angry growl to my throat. The last thing I needed was to see Isabelle right now.
“I think I have some news that will cheer you up, Alessio,” Lorenzo said far too happily from his position on the sofa. I turned to see Isabelle perching her ass down on his lap, letting the slit on her dress fall away from her thigh. She gave me a seductive look as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck.
I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I very much doubt it.”
“You said I needed to be more creative when it came to Buccini? You said to hit him where it hurts, right? Well, what does Giovanni love and cherish above all else?” Lorenzo stroked Isabelle’s thigh as he stared at me expectantly, excitement spilling from his eyes.
My whole body tensed as I stood straight, immediately on edge. What has the asswipe gone and done without my consent?
“His wife. Olivia Buccini. He would do anything for her. He has proved that time and time again. So…”
My jaw ticked as my fierce glare darkened. “So…”
One of his men walked into the room and leaned down, speaking quietly into his shoulder. Lorenzo nodded with a mischievous smile.
“Perfect timing. You will see.” He tapped Isabelle to move off of him and stood up, doing up his suit jacket.
“See what? What the fuck have you done, Leone?” I growled and his smile faded. If he fucking killed Olivia Buccini, he had just fucked up everything my papi and I have worked so hard for. Not to mention gone against every fucking rule in my book.
The double doors to the living room opened abruptly and my eyes narrowed as two men dragged in a girl with a black hood over her head. She was squirming and fighting against them, even with her hands tied behind her back. They threw her down aggressively on the sofa, her body bouncing from the impact. My eyes raked over her flawless body in an elegant silver cami dress. Are you fucking kidding me? He kidnapped Giovanni’s wife?
Isabelle laughed loudly, enjoying the show as the girl kicked her leg out violently, catching one of the soldiers right in the dick by chance.
“She has some fight in her,” Isabelle smirked, leaning on Lorenzo’s shoulder. They were both looking far too smug. “She will be fun to torture.”
“Pezzo di merda!” The girl shouted from under the hood and my body froze. That voice. Lorenzo’s smile dropped just as quickly as he stormed towards her, whipping the hood off her head.
“She is fucking Italian!” Lorenzo shouted at his men behind. “Olivia is English! This is not her!”
“Sei un coglione!” The woman laughed as she blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness, her shiny black hair falling in a tousled mess around her shoulders from the hood. My world froze. Her deep brown eyes scanned the room with a scowl of feistiness, but they widened when they met mine and her deliciously full lips parted. I no longer felt like I was breathing. No one else was in the room but her. The rumours of her beauty were not exaggerated. Now, in her true form, with no mask or wig, Elenora Buccini was laid bare before me. And she was fucking divine.
“You!” She narrowed those big, brown eyes into slits of vengeful rage as she breathed heavily, her perfect tits rising and falling in her dress.
“Alessio Barbieri,” she spat my name as if it was poison on her tongue and I smirked, feeling my dick harden.
“Elenora Buccini,” I replied and enjoyed the way a flash of arousal tickled her expression when she heard my voice before she glared once more. “We meet again.”
“You know each other?” Isabelle left Lorenzo’s side with a bitchy frown and strutted to the centre of the living room in front of Elenora.
I hadn’t been able to tear my gaze away from those hypnotising brown eyes. Equally, the fury she was sending my way was having the opposite effect to what I expected she was aiming for. I smiled with ease, folding my arms across my chest which caused her to admire my biceps before she looked back up at my face. For some reason, seeing her in front of me had calmed the complete rage that had consumed me just minutes ago. I didn’t believe in fate but perhaps I should start.
“No. We don’t know each other at all,” she snapped, falling back into the sofa cushions with a huff. Her hands were still tied behind her back which caused her tits to stick out even more temptingly and my mind drifted to wild thoughts. Fuck, how many times had I fantasised about having Elenora Buccini, and Flora for that matter, tied up and completely at my mercy? Too many to count. Though the circumstances were a little different, I’d admit.
“Don’t be shy, Princess,” I teased, flopping down in the armchair opposite the sofa with a cheeky grin. “We know each other a little.”
The glare she gave me could have melted the Arctic. I chuckled and lifted my glass to take a swig of bourbon.
