Chapter 46
SEBASTIAN
Straightening my tie as I entered my office—I stopped short.
In a leather chair before the fire, exuding the kind of cold, quiet menace that had made him feared in every courtroom, sat Judge Marzio Delluci.
Sabrina’s father.
I had just taken Sabrina out of the building through my private entrance, issuing strict instructions for the waiting car to take her back to my palazzo.
And only my palazzo.
She had been heartbreakingly beautiful—her makeup smudged, her gown torn, sapphire eyes glistening with unshed tears.
She'd gripped the edge of the open car window. “Please, just let me go.”
I'd placed my hand over hers, my thumb brushing the bare skin of her ring finger.
Soon, my ring would be there.
My mark. My claim.
“The answer is no. Stop asking. And don’t even think about sneaking off to the airport.” I'd dropped my voice to a lethal murmur. “I’ve had your passport flagged. You won’t even get past security."
Her lower lip trembled before she'd spat, "I curse the day you came into my life.”
I'd leaned down and kissed her fingers, my gaze locking onto hers. “I look forward to making you regret that statement.”
* * *
Despite knowing she was gone, I instinctively glanced over my shoulder, ensuring her office was empty before shutting my door with a sharp snap.
I turned my attention back to the man lounging in my chair, his fingers flexing over the carved handle of his walking stick.
“How did you get past my guards?"
He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re not the only one with influence, Sebastian."
I crossed toward my desk and leaned against it, crossing my arms over my chest. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
His mask of control cracked—just enough for his rage to slither through.
“You know damn well. I saw her,” he ground out.
“Saw who?”
His teeth bared in something too sharp to be called a smile. “My daughter.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Your daughter? Really? I wasn’t aware you had a child with your long-suffering wife.”
He surged to his feet and strode toward me. “I tire of this game,” he said with deadly authority. “Just tell me what you want.”
“For what?”
“To hand her over to me.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
He hadn’t asked me to keep quiet.
Hadn’t asked me to send her away.
No—he wanted me to hand Sabrina over.
A dangerous proposition.
I took my time straightening from my desk, letting the silence stretch until it became suffocating. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Delluci’s eyes darkened. “You would deny an old man the chance to meet his only daughter?”
A slow smirk curled my lips. “You expect me to believe you suddenly want a relationship with her?”
“The mistakes of one’s youth catch up eventually," he mused. "I was young and ambitious back then. But now? Now I’ve achieved my goals, only to find them hollow without children to carry on my legacy.”
Lies.
Every word sounded like a carefully rehearsed fabrication.
And we both knew it.
I shifted my weight, angling my body, muscles coiled to strike.
Something was definitely wrong.
Marzio Delluci would never acknowledge Sabrina—a secret, an inconvenience—as his daughter.
Too much risk. Too much to lose.
Yet here he was, pretending to be the grieving father desperate for redemption.
He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “All I ask is a chance to meet her. To explain my long absence from her life.”
I let that sit between us before tilting my head. “And the investigation into the House of Diamanti and my family?”
Marzio placed a hand over his heart. “If that is the price I must pay to be reunited with my precious daughter…then I will pay it.” His lips curled. “Gladly.”
Stronzata. Bullshit.
He was stalling.
Deliberate. Calculated.
The question was—why?
Then I heard it.
The screech of tires.
A thunderous burst of gunfire.
Screams.
I whirled toward the window, a violent roar in my ears as I flattened my palms against the glass.
Below, chaos reigned.
Two of my guards sprawled motionless on the pavement, dark pools of blood spreading beneath them.
The car—her car—sat at an odd angle up on the curb, the back passenger door wide open.
There was no sign of her.
Nothing.
A slow, satisfied chuckle dragged my attention back to the room.
Marzio Delluci had sat, his fingers drumming leisurely against the handle of his walking stick.
“I warned you, ragazzo… You should have just handed the bitch over.”
Rage.
Blinding. All-consuming. Rage.
Murderous intent flooded my veins, but Delluci only smiled—because he knew.
Knew I had lost.
Knew that for the first time in my life, I was the one trapped.
And Sabrina?
Sabrina was gone.
To be continued…
Broken Crown, Diamanti Billionaire Dynasty, Book Two