Dark Mafia Heir (Mafia Vows #3)

Chapter 24

24

Antonio

I stare at her body, curled up in my arms.

The moonlight bathes her in a soft glow as we move past the shadows on the pavement. Her skin is pale, her body light and almost weightless. Her pulse is weak, and she is barely breathing, but the shallow pumps of her chest give me hope.

Regardless, I can’t help but blame myself for not being there, for not protecting her the way I should have.

[10:26PM] Gattina: Antonio. . .I’m dying .

For fifteen years of my life, I thought I knew what anger was.

That is, until now.

Now, it’s a wildfire, consuming every corner of my mind. There’s a tightness in my chest, the pulse pounding in my temple, the way my fist clenches so hard my nails bite into my palms even as I hold her. I’m shaking, and my hands, vibrating from the force of trying but miserably failing to hold back.

“Antonio.”

Luca’s already standing by the car by the time I get there. His eyes hold both a message of understanding and rage, and he stretches out his arms to carry her. My eyes stay on her the entire time while he carefully lays her on the back seat of the car.

I kiss her forehead, allowing my lips to linger before I shut the door.

My hand goes to the holster between my belt, and Luca slides into the driver’s seat. I barely look at him. “She’s weak but alive. Get her home safe and get the doctor to check on her.”

He nods and steers the car down the road.

I turn back to the club, gripping the gun like an extension of my hand.

I’m going to kill them. I’m going to fucking kill them all.

When I march back inside, I head to the center of the stage, raise my arm in the air. I hold the gun steady, my chest rising and falling with fire coursing through my veins. And I pull the trigger. Four shots fired in quick succession.

Glass shatters, loud, terrified screams rip through the air, and some lights go off.

The music stops, and I know I have everyone’s attention.

Wide, frightened eyes lock onto me. A couple of them tremble, but none dare move. A cluster of young people huddle in the corner, some crouched beneath tables as though cheap wood could shield them from me. They think it can, but it won’t. Nothing fucking will.

My gaze sweeps across the room. “Someone here spiked my wife’s drink. Some fucking idiot here believed that somehow they could do that and walk away unscathed. Now, here’s the thing: if you had a hand in this, I assure you that you won’t be leaving here alive.”

Someone lets out a muffled whimper, and my eyes snap to them. It’s a girl, one of the juveniles. She shrinks back into a corner with tears streaming down her face, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Silently, I dare any one of them in the room to speak, to breathe wrong.

“Whoever you are, you have sixty seconds.”

No one steps forward.

“Forty fucking seconds now. You all have a chance to tell me who it was, or I’ll start deciding myself. Don’t make me ask again.”

Still, no one.

“Thirty. . . Twenty . . .”

My mercy—what little I had—is buried beneath a sea of boiling anger. I don’t care who’s afraid. I don’t care who’s innocent. My eyes find one of the security guards near the stage. He was one of them stationed by the VIP section.

His eyes meet mine, and he starts to tremble. Guilt gleams in his eyes, and sweat beads on his forehead as I step closer and press the gun to his head. “Weren’t you supposed to keep fucking watch?”

Dropping to his knees, he clutches his arm, drawing ragged breaths like a wounded animal, and his voice cracks when he speaks. “I’m sorry, boss. She asked me to give Vivienne the drink, but she said it was from you. I didn’t know.”

Anger claws its way up my throat like acid as I look toward the direction he’s pointing.

The light shines on a blonde woman, her teary eyes pinned on me as if she’s just seen a beast. Her fingers are ash, and she looks like she’s barely breathing.

It’s her. The stripper I rejected.

I laugh mirthlessly as I shift my attention back to the security guard. “ You were supposed to protect her. How could this stripper have tricked you? You’re a worthless piece of shit!”

Before he can say a word, I pounce on him, landing a punch that makes his jaw crack and leaves a trickle of blood on my hand.

More rage flares in my chest as I prowl over to the stripper and fist her ponytail. She whimpers to my grip but doesn’t try to fight back. I guess one stupid action is enough for one night. “Do you know she’s barely breathing? If she dies, I’ll make your entire family suffer!”

Her voice breaks as she speaks. “I’m sorry… I… I was…”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses from you,” I growl at her. Through the corner of my eyes, I see the security guard stagger back to his feet. Trembling with rage, I pull out my gun and point it at him. “I could put a bullet in your fucking head if I wanted to.”

But I can’t.

I can’t kill a woman, not when she looks so terrified of me. I can’t kill the security guard over a mistake, even if I wanted to—though the thought of Vivienne being hurt is driving me insane. Vivienne wouldn’t like it. She already sees me as a monster. She’ll hate me if she finds out what happened.

It’s a struggle as I lower my gun and yell, “ Get out! Both of you, get out before I change my mind! And pray she’s still alive—because if she isn’t, I won’t stop until I find you, and you pay for her death. If I ever see your faces again—or even hear of you being near my wife—you’ll regret being born. I’ll fucking kill you!”

When I get back to the house, I don’t make any stops until I’m in the bedroom.

She’s already awake.

I can see the soft rise and fall of her shoulders as she stands by the window, her back to me, her silhouette framed in the soft light spilling through the glass. Her head turns slightly, just enough to let me know she knows I’m here. Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder, but they’re unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here, gattina . You should be resting.”

Vivienne faces me fully, tugging on the loose shirt that hangs above her thighs. “I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I was waiting for you to come back.”

I cross the room, closing the distance, keeping us apart. There’s something eerily calm about her that unsettles me. Brushing my hand against her cheek, I tilt her chin up. “How are you? Are you feeling dizzy? Does your head hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Luca had a doctor come over. I’m better now.”

Her eyes widen as her gaze shifts to my shirt, stained with blood.

“There’s...”

“I handled it.”

“You handled. . .

“I didn’t kill them. I just gave them a good lesson. They’ll never come near you again.”

The relief on her face makes me glad I didn’t kill those idiots.

” Her eyes meet mine, and understanding fills them. I don’t expect her to burst out in tears, and I stiffen when her head collapses against my chest.

“Antonio, I thought I was going to die.”

“Ssh.” I rub her back, soothing her the best way I know how. My heart clenches at the tears shimmering in her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to let that happen ever again, you hear me? I’ll be by your side to protect you, I swear it, Vivienne.”

She’s still wreaking with sobs, fisting my shirt tightly like she’s scared to let go.

I place my hand over hers and, slowly, peel her fingers away to get her attention, and when she looks up, I do what I should have done the second I walked through that door:

I kiss her.

With slight hiccups, she sighs, closes her eyes, and wraps her arms around my neck. Gripping her hips, effortlessly, I lift her from the ground, and she locks me in with her legs around my waist. Cupping her bare ass underneath her clothes, I squeeze, and I break our lips apart briefly to kiss the tears from her eyes.

“ Nio… ”

My lips find hers again, and I’m gentle, sucking on each of her lips with a tenderness I have known myself to be capable of. I feel the strength in her grip, the vulnerability in her embrace, and the possession oozing all over her from the way she holds me close.

She breathes against my lips, runs her fingers into my hair, and when her palm connects with my scalp, I groan against her mouth.

My cock pulses in my pants, a rush of ice and warmth enveloping me at the same time. My skin rises in gooseflesh, and my heart thumps against my chest walls echoing her name over and over again.

I can’t count the number of times Vivienne and I have had sex, and there have been variations: rough, wild, angry, passionate. But never. . . this.

Now, she kisses me like she can’t get enough, holds me like the most precious diamond she has, and I take her like we have all the time in the world.

Laying her on the bed, she reaches for my shirt and rips it open. A few buttons pop out, and when I look at her, she shrugs. “I can’t . . . It’s just. . .Her blood.” And I understand.

No more words need to be said, and we don’t bother taking off the rest of our clothes tonight. The burning need to connect is more overwhelming than foreplay.

Nudging her shin with my knee, her legs spread wider, and my breathing escalates at the wet sight of glistening pink between her thighs.

I take my erection out, holding her close to me, when I slide inside her. Pressing my mouth over hers, I swallow her gasp before it escapes.

Her nails dig into my bare shoulders, her soft cries sounding like a melody to my ears. Slowly, she whines her hips, taking me in, and I jerk forward, filling her up. I press closer, feeling her every breath, every pulse beneath me as we move together.

She shudders beneath me.

Her hands grip my hips, nails dig into my skin, pulling me deeper, harder, like she’s afraid if she lets go, this moment will slip through her fingers.

I feel the slick heat between us, the tightness of her body, her tight walls squeezing me in, the way she arches into me. I groan into her neck, thrusting deeper, harder.

Her eyes are half-closed, lashes wet from her tears, and when they open, I catch a glimpse of that unspoken affirmation in the way she watches me.

She’s holding nothing back.

And I don’t either.

Her lips part, her toes curl behind me, and she convulses beneath me when her orgasm wracks through her, leaving her spent before I’m done.

I ride her through it, through the rising swell of ecstasy, through the spiral of pleasure that pulls us both under.

I don’t want to stop. I want to hold onto this longer, maybe fore?—

The coil bursts from within me like a snapped string, and I surrender myself into that wild, desperate release that leaves me breathless, trembling, and truly vulnerable for the first time in a long whi le.

I collapse on her, and she hugs me close; our breathing is ragged, and we stay like that. Again, we don’t say anything. But I know we don’t have to.

In the heat of passion, we’d said it already.

Neither one of us was sure we were ready to let go.