24. Massimo
Chapter 24
Massimo
L ike a missile locked on its target, I can’t tear my gaze away from the hand wrapped around Margot’s arm. Fury seeps into my blood, turning what was once a pleasant evening into an ugly affair.
Abandoning my weekly poker game, I throw my cards onto the table and into my stack of chips, without a care for how they land, and lean back in my chair.
Exhaling, I try to calm the beast inside of me. “Release her,” I bite, my words cold as ice.
The fucker —I don’t even know his name—stares at me dumbfounded, like my demand isn’t quite aligned with how he expected this conversation to go. His grip tightens, his knuckles turning white against her pale skin.
“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. My. Wife,” I bellow, pushing to stand and knocking my chair to the floor.
A hush falls over the room, the attention of the other players at the table and their security dotted around the room, shifting to us and the scene playing out. Still clutching her arm, wide eyes dip to her before lifting to meet mine. As if presenting her to me, he pushes Margot forward and under the overhead light.
There’s a noticeable redness on her left cheek and right temple that I’m certain can’t be blamed on alcohol. If he’s fucking touched her, I’ll kill him . When Margot lifts her glassy eyes to mine, I rest my hand on my gun, ready to make my move.
Daniele steps forward and into my peripheral. “Russo, let her go,” he commands.
Russo’s gaze shifts to Daniele, but he still doesn’t free her. My hand moves before I can think. The weight of my gun is steady in my grip as I lift it and aim for his head.
I do something I’ve never done before and hesitate. There is no doubt in my mind about what I have to and want to do, but a small voice in the back of my mind tells me to hold back, for Margot’s sake, to protect her from the violence. I silence it, I have to. Letting this asshole get away with manhandling her is not an option. I will make an example out of him.
Without further thought, I pull the trigger. The crack of the shot splits the air, bouncing off the walls and colliding with the thud of his body hitting the floor. He drags Margot backward momentarily before his dead body relaxes and he releases her.
She turns slightly, looking down at him, her arms flailing as she tries to steady herself. A whimper slips free before she returns her attention to me and sets her shoulders.
When her focus drifts back to him and her chin trembles, I call, “Margot.”
She snaps her eyes back to me and swallows thickly before nodding. In that moment, she looks so young; like the bravado she usually carries around has been ripped away. That’s because of me .
Clearing my throat and ridding my mind of the unwelcome thought, I continue, “Keep your eyes on me and come here.”
She sucks in a shaky breath and crosses the room. I hold my arm out, tucking her into my side when she reaches me, a sense of ease settling into me when she clutches at my shirt. Fuck . This isn’t how I saw the evening unfolding.
I smooth my thumb over her hip, then I turn to address the room. “Gentlemen, apologies for cutting the evening short, but it’s clearly for the best, given my hand. Lorenzo will get you squared away and I’ll see you next week.” Inclining my head to them, I step away from the table, guiding Margot in the direction of my private apartment. “Daniele?” I call over my shoulder, my request unspoken but clear.
“I’ve got it, boss.”
Margot trembles against me as we cross the space. It doesn’t escape my attention that the last time we came in here, we didn’t make it past the hallway. The memory makes my cock twitch, but I ignore it, focusing on making sure Margot is okay and getting to the bottom of what the fuck has happened tonight.
As we enter the apartment, I guide her to the couch. The space is basic and nothing like the luxury of the house in Stony Brook. It consists of two rooms, a bedroom at the back and a living room with a kitchenette.
With Margot settled on the couch, I head to the cabinet where I keep a bottle of whiskey. I grab a glass, returning to her, and taking a seat on the coffee table. She stares at the same spot, spaced out and unseeing. Concern tugs at the muscle in my chest. I don’t know how to fix this .
Pouring a drink, I hand it over, watching as she throws it back before handing the glass back. I set it on the table and pick up her hand, rubbing my finger over the spot where her wedding band should be. It rattles me more than it should to see my ring missing. “Where are your rings?”
Margot blinks, looking at her hand and then back at me before trying to pull herself free. “Let go of me.”
Something in her tone makes my chest ache, and I release her, not wanting to add to her turmoil. She rubs her palms over her thighs, scanning the room before standing.
I fight the urge to comfort her, to tell her that she’s safe with me because that would be a lie. I am the reason she is feeling how she feels now. I’m the reason she had to endure whatever that piece of shit did to her.
“Margot,” I call, drawing her attention to me as she moves around the room. She glances at me over her shoulder, waiting for me to continue. “Where are your rings?”
She runs her finger over the books lining the shelf near the TV. “I took them off and put them in my purse.”
I narrow my eyes, sighing heavily. “And where’s your purse now?” She didn’t have it when she was dragged into my office.
Facing me, she sets a hand on her hip, her top lip curling. “You are such a hypocrite. Where’s your ring, Massimo? You think I haven’t noticed that you don’t wear it?”
Standing, I hold my hand up, showing her my wedding band before stuffing my hands into my pockets. “I’ll let it slide because of what you’ve been through tonight, Margot. But you’re wearing my patience thin. Where are your rings?”
“Always letting it slide,” she mutters under her breath before moving back to the couch and flopping down. “I left it in the VIP booth.”
I pull out my phone and send a text to Daniele, telling him to pick it up.
Turning toward me with teary eyes, Margot asks, “You didn’t think to let it slide with him?” A cocktail of fear and something akin to hurt swirls in her gaze, and for a split second, I’m not sure how to respond.
I move to the couch, reaching for her and pulling her onto my lap. She straddles me, and I tilt my head back, moving my thumbs in small circles on the bare skin of her thighs. “What happened with him?”
Margot huffs out a breath, wrapping her arms around herself. “Do you want me to work backward from the part where you shot a man or should I end there?”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I remind myself of what she’s endured tonight. “Start from when he approached you.”
She looks away, rolling her lips together before meeting my stare again. “I was dancing. He came over, told me I had to go with him. I said no. He brought me upstairs anyway, and then you shot him.”
Fuck, she’s infuriating. Lifting my hand, I smooth my thumb over the apple of her cheek, a bruise already forming. “And how did you get this?”
She looks at the space between us before whispering, “He hit me.”
I bite down on my tongue, fury roaring in my chest. When I feel that I have control of my tone, I reply, “Then as far as I’m concerned, he got off easy.”
Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes. “Assault doesn’t justify murder, Massimo.”
My hand snakes around the back of her neck, pulling her into me as my thumb traces over her jaw. “It does in my world, especially when the person being assaulted is my wife . I am your husband, Margot, and so long as you have my name and wear my rings, I will protect you how I see fit.”
Her eyes search mine before she speaks, her voice nothing more than a breathless whisper when she says, “Understood.”