15. Victoria
15
VICTORIA
Dante didn’t fight Angelo when he dropped in on us, nor did he put up a fight when we were led to a blacked-out town car. I guess my husband decided it would be safer to cooperate rather than argue.
It’s a trap.
I can feel it in my bones. Something devastating looms on the horizon and we’re speeding towards the unknown.
Dante was right, again. When will I ever listen to my husband? This is a world he’s all too familiar with while I’m merely a visitor, a liability. I really am too na?ve for this world. I’m out of my depth, too soft.
Angelo is sitting in the front passenger seat, puffing faithfully on a thick cigar while his driver silently navigates through the streets. Dante has his fingers laced with mine, but after a few minutes he releases his grip and sets my palm on his upper thigh before setting his own hand just above my knee. It takes a moment, but I start to recognize the strokes of his finger on my leg as letters.
Remember.
I can’t risk looking at him since I’m not sure how much Angelo can see of us in the mirrors, but I remember Dante’s order clear as day.
Run.
Honestly, when he first gave me the order, I thought it was absurd. Dante would never leave me, so why he would think I’d do the opposite is beyond me. No, I’m not as strong as he is, nor do I have years of experience dealing with any sort of criminal organization, but I would never abandon him.
Dante squeezes my thigh, clearly seeking some sort of acknowledgement from me, but I can’t. If I agree, it would be a lie. If I tell the truth, I’ll just piss him off. This is definitely not the moment to upset him. He needs to be on his game.
I have to lie.
The first one I’ve ever offered him.
Yes.
I trace my finger over the back of his hand in answer, needing to touch him. Craving his warmth and strength. I’m about to walk into a lion’s den, unarmed and defenseless except for his presence.
We arrive at a large brick mansion, painted white, with imposing columns flanking the front door. Angelo leads the way inside while two other men follow us at a close distance.
I’m too scared to make note of the decor, but Dante expects me to remember the path we take through this house. I focus on the number of steps, on each and every turn through the halls, as he holds my hand.
“I have to say,” Angelo finally says, breaking through the tense silence. He stops in front of a closed brown door, slowly turning around to look at both of us. “I was disappointed when you declined my dinner invitation. I looked forward to throwing a party in celebration of your wedding.”
Nothing that Angelo says is making sense. Nothing about dragging us from our home in a couldn’t-be-more-obvious mob car screams congratulatory event. Especially after we RSVP-ed “no”.
He’s clearly unable to read a room.
“So, I thought I’d surprise you with something else since dinner was not to your liking.”
I stare at Angelo, looking for some hint of humanity. His expression is calm and patient. But there’s a tightness at the corners of his mouth that hints at the fury beneath the mask. And his dark eyes are as cold and predatory as a shark’s. I’m sure he’s not used to being told no. I’d bet anything that his every whim is catered to with impressive efficiency.
Neither Dante nor I are one of his people.
We’re just two individuals with shitty luck who stumbled into this game and have been met with nothing but headaches and worry since.
“I trust you took care of the boy.” Angelo tilts his head ever so slightly towards Dante. My husband nods in response, choosing not to elaborate. “Good.” The mob boss’s focus shifts to me. “You look lovely, bella . I hope you enjoy your time in my home.”
I tense each time he looks at me.
He makes my skin crawl and I loathe his effect on me with every fiber of my being. Three months ago, I had no idea this man existed, and now he’s the villain standing between me and everything I want.
“Depends on what we’re eating,” I reply, trying to fake a casualness I don’t feel while my heart races and goosebumps prickle up and down my arms.
Angelo smiles, wicked and full of menace. He gestures toward the closed door. “Come. I’ve arranged a memorable night for the both of you.”
Dante doesn’t move, and I follow his example. It’s obvious he shares my suspicion that something is off. It’s not as much of a relief as you’d think, knowing I’m not being paranoid.
Angelo frowns when we stay where we are. “Well?”
“What are we here for?” Dante grits out. “I told you my wife hasn’t been feeling?—”
“She looks fine, beautiful as ever?—”
“ Stop complimenting my wife. Say what you need to say. If this is about negotiations, we can speak in private. After I see my wife home.”
Angelo’s eyes narrow and he looks like a snake poised to strike.
“If your wife would like to rest upstairs, she’s more than welcome,” Angelo offers cooly, playing the role of the perfect host. “However, I would appreciate it if you both took the time to see what I’ve arranged.”
Is this man a child? Or just an unfeeling sociopath? I want to demand answers, but I bite my tongue and wait for Dante to make a move.
Instead, he lets the silence fill the hall for several tense seconds before squeezing my hand roughly. I know he’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure I understand the message.
He’s probably reminding me to stay vigilant and be strong.
To follow his instructions for this exact scenario—for if things went south—and get the hell out of the house.
Dante steps forward and Angelo smirks, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. The room is cast in shadow and even after Angelo shifts to the side, I can’t see what’s waiting on the other side of the open doorway.
My husband follows but comes to a sudden halt after clearing the threshold. I just barely catch myself before I walk into his back.
Almost before I can register that Dante’s stopped moving, he’s ripped from my grasp and disappears somewhere to my left.
I’m shoved forward, almost faceplanting onto the dark hardwood floors. A cacophony of harsh male laughter fills the room and I jerk to attention, trying to process what I’m seeing.
We’re in a massive, oversized dining room with a long table running down the middle. Men in suits occupy every seat but one—the one directly opposite the door, at the head of the table.
Every one of those men is staring at me.
“Get rid of him,” I hear Angelo bark. I quickly turn to see Dante in the middle of throwing a punch into some brute’s face while another sinks a fist into his stomach.
I’m already on the move, eager to help, and I claw at the back of one of the men. I manage to twist my fingers in his blond hair, ripping it from the root and making him howl in pain. The distraction is enough, and Dante gains the upper hand, throwing a punch that knocks my victim out cold.
As he turns to deal with the rest of his assailants, pain radiates through my skull. It’s too soon after what Liam did to me, and I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes as thick fingers grip my tender scalp and force my head to turn.
Then I lock eyes with Angelo.
“Do not touch my men,” he spits. “Women don’t fight.”
This one does.
And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this asshole—or his men—hurt my husband while I stand around and do nothing.
“What are you doing?” I manage to get out, trying to breathe through the pain of his fierce hold on me. “What is this about?”
“Money,” he deadpans, finally loosening his death grip on my skull before lowering his hand to encircle my throat. “You’re worth quite a bit. Why would I ignore the opportunity to add a hearty bonus to the money Moretti owes? You’re an asset, and one I expect to cash in.”
My blood freezes in my veins and I swear my heart stops for a beat. This is exactly what Dante warned me about. That I’d be used for far more than my trust fund, at the mercy of men with cruel appetites and zero morals.
I reach a hand up to my throat, but Angelo uses his other hand to slap mine away, tightening his fingers over my windpipe. “Let go?—”
“I’ve been more than generous and endlessly patient while we settle the debt owed to me,” he snarls, baring his teeth. “But you and Dante are jerking me around, playing games. I cannot control your trust fund, not with how your idiot parents arranged things. And I don’t trust Moretti not to skip town, so it seems I must take matters into my own hands if I want things dealt with appropriately. I refuse to be made to look a fool!”
“I can’t control?—”
“Shut the fuck up, girl.” His icy tone sends another wave of fear through me and I fight a shiver. I will not show weakness to this man. “You had best learn to keep your mouth shut. Your pretty lies won’t sway me. I’m not negotiating anymore. Never wanted to in the first place.”
Angelo has been plotting this whole time, playing three-dimensional chess, and Liam’s stunt didn’t help matters at all. No, when he kidnapped me and left town all he managed to do was piss Angelo off and rouse his suspicion.
Now, Dante and I are in the hands of a selfish monster with an army at his beck and call.
“Let her go, Lombardi!” Dante bellows, his rage palpable. “We’re gonna settle this like men.”
Angelo doesn’t bother turning to acknowledge my husband, but I finally let myself seek him out. Looking beyond Angelo’s shoulder, I see three men flanking Dante, each one holding a gun aimed directly at my husband’s head.
My heart drops into my stomach. I can’t breathe. I’m desperate for some sort of assurance, but Dante is too focused on the man holding me by the throat to spare me a glance.
I let my eyes close, fighting back tears. There’s nothing he can do. He has to know that. We’re so, so screwed. Every second that ticks by makes it less and less likely that we will both survive this shitstorm.
“It’s already settled,” Angelo finally replies, his words cutting through the heavy silence as he finally releases me to readjust his suit jacket. “These men have come here to bid on your wife. And I would be a terrible host if I told my friends I dragged them all here for nothing. Can’t have that, can we?”
“If any of them touch her?—”
“Oh, they will,” Angelo chuckles, spinning on his heel to face Dante. “It’s a matter of course. Who would make such a large investment in a plaything without inspecting the merchandise first?”
“You’re fucking dead—” A gunshot rings out, slicing through Dante’s words.
I feel the shock of it as if I’m the one who took the bullet.
One of Dante’s legs buckles as a deep crimson stain spreads below his knee, but he catches himself and straightens his spine, clenching his jaw as he stares Angelo down. His eyes darken, filling with an ominous rage that speaks volumes of exactly what he plans to do once he’s free. Unfortunately, I’m not sure he’ll get the chance to act on those plans.
“You’re dead,” Angelo speaks. Those two words cause my stomach to twist in on itself and bile climbs up my throat.
He’s going to kill him.
Angelo is going to murder my husband right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“I didn’t peg you as a swindler,” I blurt, attempting to redirect Angelo’s attention. Maybe I can talk some sense into him…
Or maybe I’ll make things worse.
“We’ve been following your rules. The money came through today . It’s in my account. If you kill me, it reverts to my parents. You kill him, and you’ll never see a penny.”
Angelo looks away from Dante and meets my angry glare with brows furrowed in confusion. It’s clear he doesn’t understand why I keep trying to get my way, not when I’m so clearly outmatched. “If I kill him, I will get your money. I have no intention of murdering you, bella . That choice will belong to whomever wins the auction, to which ever man buys you .”
“You sell her, Lombardi,” Dante seethes, “and all hell will rain down on your little parade.”
Angelo doesn’t react to my husband’s threats, continuing to study me curiously. “See, how this man continues to taunt me? I hold all the power here, in my house, with my men surrounding my enemy.”
“He’s protecting me,” I retort. “It’s what any decent man would do.”
He nods slowly, as if finally reaching some sort of understanding. “Ah…is that it? I must’ve missed that lesson growing up. Because being decent, being kind , yields no reward in this world. Only the strong survive.”
“That must be taxing. Because being an asshole only yields more enemies.”
He wags a thick finger in my face. “That is also true. But my way has served me well. It’s how I’ve gotten this far, after all.”
I’m not impressed.
Not by him, and certainly not by whatever corrupt and foul sins he’s committed in his past.
“You have me,” I state simply. “You don’t need him.”
“Princess,” Dante warns sharply. “ Don’t .”
I don’t dare say another word, not to reassure Dante or to elaborate for Angelo. The last thing I need is for Dante to do something stupid and self-sacrificing in an attempt to end this. He’s not indestructible or immortal. He’s not be capable of rational thought when it comes to me, and I refuse to be an accomplice in his destruction.
“I don’t trust him,” Angelo proclaims.
“He hasn’t killed you yet.”
“But he’s going to try.” Angelo gives me a shitty smirk. “The man is in love with you, and I’ve seen how he goes out of his way to keep you safe, to shelter you. It’s not in my best interest to allow him to keep breathing.”
My gut knots. Angelo can’t see me fumble this, not now. I know he’ll feed off my distress and things will only get worse. He’s trying to fill my head with vague threats, hoping to scare me into compliance.
But he doesn’t know I have a trump card up my sleeve. I know something this mob boss doesn’t.
Dante doesn’t love me.
He wants to dump me off in Paris.
“I hope you didn’t pay those men to watch us daily, Mr. Lombardi,” I tell him, ignoring the rapid pounding of my heart. “He’s too old for me. Our marriage was about keeping Liam from running off with my money and leaving me behind to deal with you alone.”
Angelo stares blankly at me. “And?”
“And you killed him.” The reminder is enough to bring my nausea back full force. “And we’re still here.”
“You won’t convince me you never planned to leave.”
“I’ve always planned on leaving the States,” I tell him, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “That’s never been a secret.”
“Tell me then…why did Dante let Liam live after stealing what first belonged to the boy? After stealing you? ”
Because I told him to.
But that makes it sound like Dante gives a shit about what I have to say. And that doesn’t match with the picture I’m trying to paint for Angelo right now.
“I wanted him to,” I lie. “But Dante said Mrs. Moretti would search high and low for her son. We couldn’t risk the cops getting involved.”
“Bullshit.”
I scoff and ball my fingers into tight fists. “How do you think Liam got shot in the shoulder?”
“Not by you ,” he grinds out. “You’d never be able to hold a gun without dropping it first. Certainly, you’re incapable of shooting someone, even if you could aim with any accuracy.”
Study your enemies.
I would’ve thought it’d be the first thing Angelo would do, but he’s hell-bent on stroking his male ego, drunk on the Kool-Aid about how women are inferior beings. He’s underestimating me and it’s going to be his downfall.
I can handle his games.
But I can’t handle his plans for my husband.
Especially not when Angelo turns me to face the men seated patiently at the long table, away from Dante. I can’t see what his men might be doing to my husband. A heavy weight settles on my shoulder as one of Angelo’s men steps forward to hold me in place.
“ Bella ,” Angelo whispers along the shell of my ear, and I can’t hold back my cringe when his hot breath licks up my skin. “These men have traveled far and wide to be here tonight. They’ve come for you . In about ten minutes, the bidding will open. And you will be going home with one of them.”