Loretta scans the row of unexpected guests before turning around and giving them her back. Fury leaps through me as I worry she’s rejecting my family, but she clings to my arm, tilts her face to the ceiling, and blinks as though her lashes might make her fly.
“Sorry, don’t want to ruin your hard work,” she mumbles.
I chuckle, cup the back of her head, and steal a kiss much too sensual for our company but nowhere near as deep as I want. She squeaks and swats my arm in admonition. I pull back and smirk, praising her for using me as she needs while promising retribution. When she rubs her thighs together and scrunches her nose, I chuckle and battle a hard-on as I replay how perfect her pussy looks dripping with my cum.
I give her another few seconds to gather herself before I peel her hand off my arm and twirl her to face everyone.
At my nod, my father leads our guests to the front tables and pulls out chairs for Natalie and Bella as Nico and Dante pull out chairs for their wives. Pops takes Scraps’s leash and moves behind the podium. Scraps whines as he sits at my father’s command.
“Is your father officiating?” Loretta asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
Her breath hitches.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
“No, it’s perfect,” she whispers.
Pride flows through me as she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders.
“I’m ready,” she says.
Scraps’s tail thumps against the floor as Loretta and I walk arm in arm down the aisle toward him.
With my father’s health and Loretta’s footwear in mind, I planned for a truncated ceremony, so after a few quick words, the exchange of vows, and slipping rings onto each other’s fingers, my father turns to Loretta and asks if she agrees to take me as her husband.
“I do,” she says.
He turns and asks me the same.
“I do.”
Neither of us hesitates.
The crease above my father’s brow smooths for the first time in years.
“You may kiss the bride,” he says.
I wrap my arms around mia gattina and pull her close. She rises onto tiptoe. I take her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.
She gives it right back, scraping my nape when I try to back away and swirling her tongue around mine in an irresistible lure. I sink deeper under her spell and growl when she yanks her face away from mine. Her wicked smirk as she wriggles her hips, nudging my hard cock, fills me with the need to conquer and claim her again. Right here. Right now. It doesn’t matter who watches, or that I was inside her less than an hour ago. I want her again. Now.
Pops gives a low, terse command. Scraps barks and jumps around us in excitement, eager for a proper hello after being such a good boy for so long.
I can relate to the mutt. I don’t want to wait anymore either.
Loretta stiff-arms me and drops to a knee. Scraps plops to his haunches and drops his head onto her shoulder as she wraps her arms around him. They reunite as though they’ve known each other for ages and need to catch up on years’ worth of gossip.
Jealousy sparks in my chest, but the joy on Loretta’s face douses it. I squat beside her and join in on the puppy love.
My father coughs with his mouth closed and begins a strenuous inhale through his nostrils. I rise and reach for Loretta, but she’s two steps ahead of me. With the oversized bunny’s leash in one hand and her bouquet in the other, she glides over to my father and loops her arm into his. As she ushers him into the hall, she looks over her shoulder at me and gives a tight smile before lifting her chin toward my family.
I nod and turn toward them as the doors close behind the trio.
Nico stands behind Serenity with his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from standing. She gives him an annoyed glance before turning her shimmery orbs at me.
Fuck. All the ladies are crying. No wonder mia gattina made a beeline for the exit.
Serenity breaks into sobs. Nico scoops her up and heads toward the back of the banquet hall.
“Not that there’ll be a next time, but take notes, consigliere,” Natalie chuckles as she dabs her eyes with a tissue. “Don’t look at the door longingly when your bride just walked through it. You’ll make everyone lose their shit.”
Dante saves me with a wry scoff as he tugs Kara’s chair closer to him and drapes his arm over the back.
“Don’t blame him, Natalie. You cry at every wedding.”
“Geeze, papà, you don’t have to rat me out all the time. I think you have too much time on your hands and need a better hobby,” she snarks.
“Ah, maybe so. How about a drink while we discuss which new-age crap fits me best?”
His smooth tone and wry humor are a balm to my soul. I’ve been in the field for too long. I’m ready to return home.
I need to identify Ralf and annihilate all the men working with him. If finding the Russian man Loretta escaped from is the only way, then I will.
But I can’t put her in danger. Maybe if I hide her away with my family in the Russo tower, then I can use her twin as bait to lure the Russian underboss into my trap.
Once the thought forms in my mind, it replays in an incessant loop. But Loretta will never forgive me if anything happens to her sister, even though the bitch has already proven to be cruel and unworthy of her love.
As Dante stands and offers his hand to his wife, gunshots ring in the hall.
Icy purpose rushes through me, and I snap to high alert without pause.
I scoop Natalie off her feet and push Bella in front of me.
“Go! Behind the bar,” I snarl.
Nico already has Serenity sitting on the floor behind the solid wood barrier. Natalie’s prosthetic foot bounces against my hip as I stay on Bella’s heels all the way to the back of the hall.
Dante pushes them down to huddle with Kara and Serenity.
“Let’s go,” Nico demands as he pulls his pistol from his chest holster.
I step in front of him. One look into my eyes, and he nods before stepping back to stand shoulder to shoulder with his father.
My father, Romo, would never forgive me if anything happened to the Russo family because of my neglect. He was Dante’s consigliere before I could even walk. He can protect my wife, even though she can hold her own if necessary.
Serenity, Kara, Natalie, and Bella need both Russo men to keep them safe.
I turn and yank my handgun from my holster as I dart back to the front of the banquet hall. Fresh gunshots ring out. I burst into the hall.
Two bulky bodies lie in a heap near the restrooms. As I run past them, I note my father’s accuracy despite his illness as brain matter and blood puddle around their lifeless bodies.
Halfway down the hall, another man lies on his side at an odd angle. Unconscious with blood leaking from his mouth, one empty eye socket, and scratches across his face, I know he’s the work of my vicious gattina.
My father and my wife led the threat away from the Russo family.
Four of the best of Nico Russo’s guards—men I’ve trained for years—lie brutally murdered at the entrance of the hall.
Yelling echoes from the lobby. I pour more speed into my legs and skid around the corner.
Several weapons fire. My father jumps in front of my wife. Loretta screams and lunges to punt him to safety, but it’s too late. He jerks and staggers as a volley of bullets tear into him.
I end the three blond-haired steroid guzzling motherfuckers by blowing out what little brains they have left. Red splatters the wallpaper.
A man yells in Russian before he and his buddy shoulder through the front door and book it to the black SUV waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I dart after them and flatten their back tire and crack their back window before pulling out my phone and rattling off instructions.
Five more of Nico Russo’s best soldiers lie strangled at the bottom of the stairs.
Loretta’s desperate voice slices through my frustration. I end the call and dart back toward my wife.
My father’s weak, gargling breaths grow shallower with every inhale. Loretta sits with his head in her lap and her hands futility pressing on his bleeding chest.
Scraps darts out from behind the large vase and whines with his muzzle against my father’s shoulder.
I drop beside mio papà and meet his knowing eyes.
“This is right, mio figlio,” he rasps.
Through the pain of his wounds, relief shines in his eyes, and I understand his words. He’d rather die protecting someone he loves than spend weeks watching cancer eat his body. I nod and take his hand when he offers it to me. He gives me a weak squeeze and offers me a glimpse into his soul.
Now he can meet mia mamma in the afterlife with no regrets. They can watch Loretta and me grow our family with peace and joy in their hearts.
He slips his hand from mine, lifts Scraps’s leash, pulls Loretta’s hand off his chest, and curls her fingers around the handle before reaching for mine again. I accept and watch from behind the cold barrier I’ve mastered through years of surviving the seedy underbelly of New York City’s mafia scene as he closes Loretta’s bloody digits around my wrist.
“Take them, girl. They’re yours now. They need you. You need them,” he wheezes.
“I do. I need them. I need you, too. Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”
“I’m sorry, amore, but it’s my time. I’m ready,” he whispers and closes his eyes.
“No. Not you, too. You can’t.”
The remnants of my hardened heart shatter as she pulls me and my father closer and breaks into sobs. She cries and screams the way I long to express myself, expunging the mark of failure and loss while increasing my rage as I watch my new bride fall apart.
Loretta releases me. She shakes my father’s body and demands he wakes up. I grab her shoulders.
“He’s gone, Loretta. Calm down. It’s okay,” I say.
“It’s not okay! There’s so much blood. He’s too cold. We need to—”
I frame her face with my hands and force her eyes to mine.
“He’s dead. There’s nothing else we can do,” I say.
She sobs through her clenched teeth, closes her eyes, and shakes her head.
Warm liquid seeps down the back of my hand. I curse, tilt her neck, and find an oozing gash on the side of her head.
Panic threatens to swallow me whole, but I pull my rage tighter around me and snarl.
“Where else are you hurt?” I demand.
She shakes her head again and looks down at Pops with glazed eyes.
I run my hands over her, smearing blood and sweat on her face, throat, and arms, but other than the cut on her head and the bruises forming on her swollen knuckles, which are visible even through the blood coating her hands, she’s not injured. I breathe a sigh of relief and pull her into my arms. Scraps whines and settles behind her back, leaning his weight on her as though he needs the comfort of her touch. I pet his head and stroke his back, give Loretta a squeeze, and pull back as men pour through the front doors.
She blinks at me when I frame her face, but by the absent quality of her stare, she doesn’t see me. I wrap my fist around her throat and tug at her hair on the uninjured side of her head. She hisses and snaps into focus.
“You’re hurt, mia gattina. Go to the hospital. I’ll be right there,” I vow.
She grabs my lapels with her bloody hands and shakes her head. I peel her fingers off the fabric, shuck the coat off my arms, and drape it around her shoulders. She pulls it tight around her and watches in silence as I give my father a farewell kiss on each cheek and gently place his hands over his stomach as though he’s resting. He looks peaceful with his head in her lap. I’m glad she was with him at the end.
I order the five I trust the most to escort her to the hospital as I organize the rest into a war party.
I’ll mourn the loss of my father after I avenge him. The figli di puttana who dared murder my father, hurt my wife, and threaten the Russo family will pay with their lives.
Their deaths will be agonizing.
Kill them all.
With my loved ones no longer in danger, I stalk out the front door without looking back.
