Chapter 17
“Fuck!” I growl at the throbbing pain in my shoulder, trying to piece together why I’m lying on the floor and the shards of glass digging into my back.
My eyes blink a few times as I try to sit up, I grunt with each movement with it sending shockwaves through my right side.
I remember leaving Isabella at our table and telling her not to move until I tell her too.
My mind races because I scan the restaurant, and I can’t see her dark hair among the chaos of this place.
“Isabella!” I yell. My ears strain to listen for her sweet voice, and nothing.
I yell again with urgency, “Isabella!” My breathing is rapid, my nostrils flaring as the image of my beautiful wife potentially lying lifeless on the floor in her own blood all pops in my head because I was not fast enough to save her.
The shards of glass rip into my clothes, stabbing my skin and, cutting my skin, but it’s nothing to the pain I’m feeling inside without knowing where my wife is. There’s so much carnage on the floor. A few customers are dead, food is everywhere, and some of the furniture pieces are broken.
I stall when I hear crunching of the broken glass under someone’s foot. My fingers are still wrapped firmly around my Glock ready to shoot the coward who decided to fire at us. Their steps become more frantic and calculated with each step, then they stop.
“Oh my god, Enzo!” her voice cries out and rushes toward me.
I lower my gun. My fingers let it fall out of my hand as she rushes to me.
The anxiousness leaves my body partly seeing she is okay.
I scan every single part of her to make sure that she was not injured.
Her dress is ripped slightly and some cuts from the glass that flew around us. I tell myself that she is okay.
She crouches down, her hands cover her mouth, and her eyes widen at me. “Enzo, you’re bleeding. I think you have been shot.”
Smirking at her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my right shoulder, I reach up to remove one of her hands and cup her face with mine. “It’s just a graze, barely broken the skin. Just a little flesh wound.” Which is technically true. Just may need more than a butterfly stitch this time.
Her voice shakes. “Enzo, I thought…I thought… I…” Tears slide down her face and all I want to do is kiss and lick them away.
I drag my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a few of the tears.
“You thought what, baby?” The selfish asshole in me wants to hear her say it.
I want to hear her say she thought I was dead because for some reason it makes sense in my messed-up head by her admitting that, then she does care about me and this marriage.
She licks her lips, running her top teeth over her bottom. “I thought someone killed you like for revenge–––”
“Ian was killed for many reasons, Isabella.” I pause staring into her deep blue eyes and say firmly, “The devil himself will have to show his face to kill me and make me leave you alone in this mafia mess. And I would still fight that mother fucker until I take my very last breath.” I slip my hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me, digging my fingers into her as I need to feel her lips on mine.
She does not push me away. She does not protest. No, she bends down willingly with her soft lips touching mine, lighting a match inside me. I need more. I need more of her. She grips my shirt pulling her into me, we both deepen the kiss.
The hunger.
The need.
The desire.
The want.
The fortress that Isabella has built around herself is breaking down.
I have held myself back since the moment my ring slid on her finger.
I can’t hold off any longer. I want to feel my wife’s body underneath me as I make her body come apart.
Marking her. Claiming her. Lick, bite, and consume every single inch of her beautiful curves to her body.
My hand slides from her neck, down to her hips, down to her full ass as she moans into my mouth making me drip her ass harder.
My cock is hard and begging for to be released and to be inside her tight, wet, virgin cunt.
I’m a moment away from taking her on this bloody, messy and carnage floor when Angelo’s voice stops me from doing what I have been craving and dreaming about.
“Enzo!” His voice bellows throughout the room as he stomps around on the broken glass.
I reluctantly pull away from Isabella and groan at the sight of her.
Swollen pink full lips, lipstick smeared, mascara smushed under her eyes from her tears, and the swell of her breasts near my face.
My hand reaches out and drags down the front of bottom lip.
Her tongue peaks out and lightly licks. I let out a low growl.
“Over here,” I call out with my eyes still locked on Isabella.
I hear him pivot on his feet and stalks over to where I’m sitting with her kneeling between my legs. “Enzo, we need to get you both out of here before we risk a repeat of whatever the fuck just happened.”
“How bad is the damage? Any of our men injured?” I move my gaze to my second, my face hardens with a mixture of pain and anger.
His Glock is still in his right hand with a firm grip, and he looks around before meeting my gaze. The mask slips into place on his face. “Innocent people gunned down. This didn’t seem like a random attack because it seemed planned.” I can see the wheels spinning in his head.
I run my free hand through my hair, pulling at the root, and I bark out. “Okay, keep your eyes peeled as we get out of here.” I go to move to stand up and I groan from the pain in my shoulder.
Angelo mumbles. “You have been shot. Jesus Christ. We need to get you home, now. I will have Lorenzo call the doctor for them to meet us at the house.”
I roll my eyes as he looks at Isabella and asks, “Mrs. Ricci, have you been hurt?”
She moves her gaze from me and looks at Angelo. Her voice is soft. “No, I’m okay.” She turns to me and says, “You’re the one who needs to be looked at. You’re still bleeding.”
My hand engulfs her. “It’s a just a graze that needs only a couple of stiches.”
I can see the questioning look on her.
Angelo does not say another word as he walks over the couple of inches to help hoist me up. He drapes my good arm over his shoulders, and I see out of the corner of my eye, Lorenzo walking over to help Isabella from the floor.
Angelo whispers to me as we walk outside to the vehicle, “Enzo, something does not seem right about this. I have a gut feeling this is correlation with you killing Di Marco’s son and he wants an eye for an eye.
This has the Di Marco’s written all over it because I don’t Costa would be that fucking stupid.
The shipment issues at the docks, the issue with Isabella when she was out with Gianna a few weeks ago, and now this.
” I grind my jaw so tight that I could crack a tooth.
“I think we have a rat in our mists. I think that shooting was supposed to kill you.”
I take in all of what he is saying, and I think he is right. And when I find who just tried to kill me, my rath will not quick or painless. It will be long, gruesome and vicious.