10. Romeo
Chapter 10
Romeo
A urora’s parting shot plays on my mind. Even now, an hour later, her words are plaguing me. I’m not a man who tends to second-guess his decisions, but she’s so goddamn adamant her father won’t come. I guess time will tell which one of us is right. And if I’m wrong, then I’ll have no issue tying up the loose ends and killing her.
After arriving at the helipad, Daniele scanned the cars for any GPS trackers. They came up clear and we’ve circled the block twice. The SUV rolls to a stop at the curb outside the restaurant. Massimo came through with this reservation . The place is a hive of activity, with a barrage of paparazzi camped out front waiting to take pictures of the rich and famous.
I guess for the right price, anyone can make the front page.
My hand reaches for the door handle and I instruct Daniele, “Find somewhere to wait, or grab some food. We’ll be here for a couple of hours to make sure the message gets out there.”
His eyes meet mine and he nods. “Yes, boss.”
I step out onto the sidewalk, the quiet of the car replaced by the sounds of the city as I button my jacket. On my periphery, I catch two of our men climbing from the car behind us and taking up residence on the sidewalk. Camera bulbs flash and my name is called out as I turn to offer Aurora my hand. There’s no mistaking the fire in her eyes, and I raise my brows. My warning is clear: make a scene and you’ll regret it .
With anyone else, my threats would have been enough. But with Aurora? Well, she’s shown a clear lack of caring about what happens to her. I’ve never had someone so willing to die that they push me to pull the trigger.
Aurora huffs out a breath before delicate fingers slide into my palm—the warmth and softness has my chest puffing out as a strange surge of protectiveness shoots through my veins.
Her black hair falls forward, partially hiding her face as she climbs from the car. When she has one foot on the sidewalk, I tug her toward me. She falls into my chest, her hand instinctively resting there between us as she finds her balance. Jasmine assaults my senses, and for a brief moment, I wonder how she still smells so good.
From the outside, the moment must look intimate and it feeds the press the scoop we planned. What I don’t expect is the dart of lust that shoots to my gut, driving me to imagine what her full, slightly parted lips would feel like if I dipped my head and stole a taste.
For half a second, I wonder if kidnapping her was such a good idea. She’s a temptress. A siren, calling to men in a way that she’s seemingly oblivious to. But there’s not a doubt in my mind that she could drown a man in her allure. Cristo . When I walked into the room earlier and saw her in that dress, I was seconds away from bending her over the back of the couch and fucking her senseless.
Click. Click. Click.
“Who’s the lucky lady, Mr. Bianchi?”
Click. Click. Click.
“Can we get a kiss?”
Click. Click. Click.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Click. Click. Click.
The barrage of questions pulls me back to the moment, reminding me why I’m here and what is at stake. I won’t allow her to compromise my family . Grinding my teeth, I snatch up her hand, angry at myself for being preoccupied. I’m not a man who gets easily distracted, and yet for a moment, she’d sucked me into a bubble.
It won’t happen again .
Ignoring the questions still being fired at us, I yank Aurora into my side and walk along the red carpet that leads toward the entrance of the restaurant. A valet holds the door open, a strange look I can’t quite define on his features. My grip tightens on Aurora’s hip before I usher her in ahead of me.
When the door closes behind us, it’s like being submerged underwater. The muffled shouting of the crowd outside is unintelligible as it bounces off the glass. Instead, soft classical music plays over the speakers, providing a background to the busy chatter of the restaurant. Dark lighting offers up an intimate atmosphere, perfect to feed the illusion we’re selling.
The ma?tre d' greets us with a beaming smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s staring somewhere over my left shoulder when he greets me. “Mr. Bianchi, it’s a pleasure to host you this evening. Please, this way.”
It’s nothing new for people to be afraid of me, but I don’t like the way his eyes flit down Aurora’s body before lifting to her face and flaring in surprise. A muscle ticks in my jaw, and if we weren’t in a restaurant full of people, I’d put a bullet in his kneecap and make him apologize to her before I put one in his head.
Clearing my throat, I unbutton my jacket, pulling back the lapel. The action draws his attention, and when his eyes land on my holstered gun, the color drains from his face. He shakes his head before swiping up two menus from the host stand with trembling hands before turning to show us to our table.
My hand rests on the curve of Aurora’s lower back as we’re shown to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. From here, we won’t need to keep up the charade for the entire dinner as the booth hides us enough to afford us some privacy, but I’ll still have a good view of the restaurant.
With a light pressure, I urge Aurora to take a seat. She glares at me over her shoulder before shuffling into the booth, tugging at the low hem of her dress. I slide in next to her, making sure to face the restaurant. It looks like we’ve caused a frenzy; the restaurant is filled with flashes from where their lenses are pressed to the glass.
The ma?tre d' squirms under the intensity of my stare before handing out the menus, obviously misinterpreting it as annoyance at the paparazzi beyond the window. He runs a finger around his collar. “I will get them moved right away, Mr. Bianchi. Carlo will be your server this evening. He’ll be with you momentarily, but can I get you anything to drink whilst you wait? Perhaps a bottle of champagne? On the house, of course.”
I turn my attention to Aurora; a brow lifted in question. She’s gazing out of the window, a pensive look on her face. It’s only when the quiet drags on that she shifts her focus to me.
Out of nowhere, the familiar sound of a gunshot echoes around the room, quickly followed by blood and brain matter exploding over us. Aurora’s wide eyes latch on to mine as the ma?tre d's body hits the table. The green depths are somehow starker with the red now marring her face. If I’d had time to take in her reaction properly, I might have noticed the way she’s frozen in shock or the terror in her expression. Instead, I take cover, pulling out my weapon before the screams of the other patrons ring through the room.
An avalanche of glass cascades to the floor as the front window shatters, leaving a clear line of sight to the street outside. Sucking in a breath, I block out the screams and sounds of plates smashing, focusing on where the gunfire is coming from. Cazzo . Bullets are flying at us from all directions. There are multiple shooters, that much I’m sure of.
I peer around the booth, taking in the once-bustling restaurant. Bodies litter both the sidewalk and the restaurant floor. I don’t have time to wonder if they’re all dead or simply taking cover, but they allow me to see out onto the block and find the man half-hidden behind a vehicle across the street. His automatic weapon rests on the hood of a car as he sprays bullets unforgivingly into the restaurant.
I’m thinking through my next move, wondering if the men we had stationed outside are dead—most likely—when a pained whimper sounds behind me. For a heart-stopping second, I brace myself for the fact that Aurora might have been hit. When my eyes seek her out, I find her sitting, motionless, in the exact spot she was moments ago. Her mouth is slightly agape and her eyes are wide as she stares, unblinking, at the blood that’s pooling on the white tablecloth from the gaping hole in the ma?tre d's head, his lifeless eyes fixed in her direction.
“ Get the fuck down ,” I shout in Italian, reaching over to tug her down onto the bench, out of the firing line.
A bullet whizzes past my head, piercing the back of the booth, sending padding exploding into the air. That was too close for comfort . My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I bunker down onto the bench. This isn’t my first gunfight, and I’d rather it not be my last, but I’m massively outnumbered. Keeping low, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to Daniele in the hopes that he’s in the vicinity.
Romeo
Restaurant. Shooter. Auto. More than one.
I wait until the bubble shows as delivered before pocketing my phone. Wood and plaster splinter around us as the heavy gunfire ensues. There’s no letup in the ammo raining down on us, which tells me whoever they are, they came here to kill and they don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. This isn’t a warning, it’s an assassination attempt. I’ve seen enough to know that they won’t stop until their target—me—is taken out. Although anyone worth their salt would have taken me out with the first shot, not the fucking ma?tre d'.
Somewhere in the restaurant, a cell phone rings, barely audible over the gunfire. Nobody picks up and when the ringing stops, it quickly starts up again, this time followed by several other ringtones.
Shuffling along the bench, I look back to silently tell Aurora to stay hidden. The last thing I need is the only connection we have to Francesco Costa being taken out. Her eyes are shut and her lips are moving as she mouths something to herself. I rest my hand on her arm and wait for her unfocused gaze to meet mine before I motion for her to stay. She dips her chin in acknowledgment.
Another peek over the edge of the booth, and I can see the gunman aiming his weapon down the street.
Thank fuck for back up.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I move out of my seat, keeping as close to the wall as I possibly can. There’s no way I can make a kill shot from where I am and this figlio di puttana doesn’t get to go home today.
The unmistakable stench of death is in the air. Bodies litter the restaurant, and as I move through it, terrified, wide eyes meet mine of the patrons who have survived and are taking cover.
Blood rushes in my ears and my heart beats a rhythm of rage in my chest. When I reach the window, I take cover behind the wall and lift my gun, bringing him into the line of fire. I flex my finger over the trigger and, without a second thought, I apply a light pressure. The bullet meets its intended point on his head, and he crumples to the ground, his weapon falling to the floor.
The block is now eerily quiet, and as I step from behind the wall, the unmistakable click of a magazine being loaded echoes around the buildings. I don’t have time to react and move before a bullet flies toward me, grazing my arm.
Cazzo!
My hand lifts to the wound, and when I pull it away, blood drips from my fingers. The deafening sound of gunshots doesn’t ease up. The plaster and brick around me splinters and sprays as the unknown attacker continues their assault.
Pulling out my phone, I open up the camera and maneuver it around the wall. The shooter is there dressed all in black, a balaclava covering his face, carrying himself with all the calmness one would expect of a hitman. If the fire wasn’t being aimed at me, I’d be in awe of his brazenness. Instead, it’s just pissing me the fuck off.
Sliding down the wall, I lie on my stomach and army-crawl across the floor toward the opening. The shards of glass slice through the fabric of my suit, painfully digging into the flesh of my forearms and knees as I go. The slicing pain is almost unbearable, but I do what I do best; block it out and focus on the task at hand. In position under the small window ledge, I send up a silent prayer that whoever is shooting at him from the other end of the block is distracting him.
It’s not ideal, being this low on the ground, but at least I’ve got a shot. When he gets within range, I aim for his head before squeezing the trigger. He drops, silence filling the air before he’s even hit the ground.
Rolling to the side, I lie on my back staring up at the destruction, counting down from ten. My chest heaves with each labored breath, and I flex my fingers on the handle of my gun, ready to attack again if needed. When the only noise is that of sirens in the distance, I stand. There’s a tightness in my chest that I force to loosen as I brush off the fragments of glass from my suit.
Holstering my weapon, I keep to the outskirts of the restaurant as I walk back to the table, calling Daniele. Who knows if they’re the last of it, but we’re sitting ducks in this restaurant. I need to get Aurora and get the hell out of here.
Daniele answers on the first ring, his worry evident when he asks, “Boss. You guys okay?”
“We’re fine.” I seethe. “How’s it looking out there?”
Daniele blows out a breath before responding. “There’s going to be a lot of heat here soon.” I hear the clunk as the car door shuts, and the engine roars to life as he continues, “I counted three. You took two out and one ran as I was pulling up. It’s best if we don’t stick around though, I’ll bring the car to the back.”
Fuck .
Without a word, I end the call, pocketing my phone as I crouch in front of our table. Using my body as a shield from the destruction behind me, I gently whisper her name. Glassy, wide gaze moves to me, bouncing around my face. “We have to go. Keep your eyes on me and do exactly as I say.”
She sits up and stumbles out of the booth, her eyes not leaving mine even when she’s safely in my arms. Blood and brain matter stain her white dress. Her body vibrates with fear, and I tighten my hold around her waist, moving us to the back of the restaurant.
We come to a stop next to the fire exit. “Wait here. If you hear any more gunfire, run for the bathroom. Lock yourself in a stall, stand on the toilet seat, and don’t make a sound until I come for you. Okay?”
Her jaw quivers before she visibly clenches it and gives me a firm nod. Pushing down on the door’s release bar, I lift my gun and ease outside. Daniele has the back door of the car open, his gun trained on the end of the alleyway.
I turn back to Aurora, ready to grab her hand and make a dash for it, but my focus lands on the masculine hand clamped over her mouth and the other holding a gun to her temple. Aurora’s eyes are squeezed shut and her nostrils flare as silent sobs wrack her body.
The valet .
I should have seen this coming .
Stepping to the side, I allow the door to close before lifting my gun and aiming it at his head. The soft glow of the emergency exit sign is the only illumination, but I see him as if we’re under a spotlight.
“There’s only one way you get to go home today.” My voice is deceptively soft as the lie falls from my lips.
We both know he won’t leave here alive.
A bead of sweat forms on his brow, and he rasps, “Drop your weapon and put your hands on the wall or… or I’ll kill her.”
Aurora’s eyes fly open, fear dilating her pupils. So she’s not as accepting of death as she’s been making out . I file away the thought before replying, “That’s not going to happen, stronzo .”
He squeezes his eyes shut, his rasping breaths filling the quiet. With a jerk of my head, I indicate for Aurora to move. She pulls in his arms, moving just enough for me to take aim, and as he opens his eyes, I pull the trigger. The bullet penetrates his skull, splattering blood and fragments of bone over Aurora and the wall next to her. She flinches, her throat working as if she’s trying to suppress a scream.
Not wasting a second or giving her time to dwell on what’s just happened, I grab her hand and push through the door, urging her to get into the car. When Daniele is behind the wheel and we’re racing through the city, I rest my head on the headrest and blow out a heavy breath.
“To the helipad?”
The question is loaded with concern, and after what we’ve experienced this evening, I don’t blame him. “If you’re up for it, drive us back to Massimo’s.”
This is bigger than we could have anticipated and without knowing when the next attack could come, every step we take needs to be well thought through.