9. Marco
9
MARCO
“ D o you have to go?” Lyla’s adorable when she pouts, making it that much harder to disappoint her.
It’s been two weeks since the gala, and we’ve slept in the same bed every night. We’ve fallen into a familiar cadence, sharing the same spaces as if we’ve been together for years. She’s easy to be around, and when she’s not fending for herself or taking care of someone she shouldn’t have to, Lyla relaxes and her charming personality shines through. Here, she can just be herself, and not the girl in constant survival mode.
She fought me when I first brought her home, but I fought her too, determined to break her before she could break me. I don’t know who fell first or when, but if this is what love feels like, then I’m in love with her. I’m not the same irritable bastard I used to be, but I’m only this way with Lyla. Everyone else still sees me as the murderous asshole I’ve always been, and I plan to keep it that way.
Maybe that’s the real reason I kept my distance from her for so long. I knew she was special after one look. Perhaps I suspected then that being with her would be different from any other woman I’ve been with. For a man who fears nothing, that concept is terrifying. My feelings for Lyla make me vulnerable, and I’m still unsure how to handle them.
I kiss her lips again before getting out of bed. “You want me to stay?”
“What? Really?” She props herself on her elbows, and the sheet slides off her naked body, revealing those bouncy tits I love so much. My mouth waters at the sight of them.
I’m supposed to leave today. A quick business trip to New York to meet some associates and discuss new product I want to move. Paulie can go in my place and get the rundown of their proposal, though. My best friend will privately give me shit about staying back for pussy, but even he can see how much Lyla has come to mean to me.
“Paulie can go without me this time.” I slip on a pair of loose sweats, but decide against wearing a shirt because I like the way Lyla stares at me when I don’t. “Unless you’ve changed your mind…”
Covering up her nakedness with the comforter, she kneels with her feet tucked beneath her. “Stay! I want you to stay.” She beams at me, and it makes my chest puff with pride knowing I’m the one who put that smile on her face.
“Alright, then, Princess. You have me all to yourself.” I stride over to the bed and she rises on her knees, letting the blankets fall. Her toned arms circle my neck and I lean in for a kiss. “How about I make us breakfast while you decide what you want to do today?”
Her eyebrows lift as she pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “Can we go somewhere? It doesn’t have to be in public!” she blurts. “I just want to get out and do something different. Something fun.”
Ever since running into that fucker Liam, my men and I have been on high alert. I don’t look over my shoulder because only a coward would attack me from behind. Yet I wouldn’t put it past one of the Donahue boys to pull some bullshit like that. Even if they try, I do just fine taking care of myself and I always stay well-guarded.
It’s not me I’m worried about, though. It’s Lyla. And now that Liam has seen her, he’ll have no problem using her to get to me. I don’t want to keep her locked up in this house, but I admit my concerns are eased when she’s here because I know she’s safe. Still, she deserves to get out, and we’d both enjoy the fresh air of a sunny day.
I tuck a stray tendril behind Lyla’s ear, mesmerized by her bright-blue eyes. “Ever been on a yacht?”
She tilts her head with a deadpan expression, but humor sparkles in her gaze. “Sure I have. Poor girls like me, from the bad part of town, spend countless hours traipsing the high seas on luxury boats.”
I tickle her side before swatting her juicy ass, making her yelp. “Keep sassing me and I’ll take you over my knee.”
She licks her lips, and her eyelids become heavy. Guess she likes the idea of being spanked.
“Or, better yet, I’ll make you kneel on the floor and suck my cock while I eat breakfast. Put that bratty mouth to good use.”
Her pulse beats faster at the base of her neck, and I bet if I touched her pussy right now, it’d be wet for me. “What if I want to do those things willingly? Does that still make them punishments?” Lyla’s voice is a husky whisper.
I bend forward and capture her earlobe between my teeth. “Those are just two ideas. I have plenty more ways to punish bad little girls, Princess.” The scent of her arousal grows stronger. But I know if we stay here any longer, we’ll never leave this room. “Get dressed. We can talk about discipline and rewards downstairs.” I kiss her temple, then head to my bathroom to brush my teeth as she crawls out of bed.
We make it to the kitchen, Lyla sipping her coffee while I scramble a few eggs, when the sound of gunshots in the near distance makes my blood run cold. I have weapons stashed in every room of this house and retrieve the one that’s hidden in a false drawer.
I peek out the window and see several guards running toward the back of the property, where three speeding black side-by-sides charge from the dense forest. There’s about a dozen men dressed in balaclavas and tactical gear, their automatic assault rifles aimed and shooting in our direction. I don’t know who these motherfuckers are, but I have no doubt who sent them. And it’ll be the last directive Liam Donahue gives because I’ll kill him with my bare hands once this shit is over.
Anger fuels my actions and heightens my instincts, with the knowledge that armed intruders will breach my home in a matter of minutes. I don’t have time to think or answer questions as I grab Lyla’s hand and drag her to the third floor.
“What’s happening? Who’s shooting at us?” Her voice trembles and her eyes are wild as she struggles to keep my pace.
“I’ll explain later. I need to get you to the safe room.”
We reach my private office, where I keep a small armory inside a state-of-the-art panic enclosure. Paulie insisted I have this thing built. At the time, I scoffed at the notion. I don’t run from fights, and I never back down. Without having any siblings or children, he stressed the importance of my protection as the head of this family. I couldn’t argue with his logic, and now that I have Lyla, I’ve never been more thankful I listened to my friend.
We cut through my office and I press the hidden button on the wall to reveal the heavily-secured room. Reinforced with concrete and steel and equipped with video monitoring, the space is large enough to accommodate up to ten people with room to spare and has enough supplies to last two weeks.
“Holy shit!” Lyla’s footsteps falter when she sees all my weaponry. If I had time, I’d laugh because this is nothing compared to the arsenal I have in the basement.
When the cumbersome metal door swings open, I don’t hesitate to shove Lyla inside. There’s no time to be gentle when glass is shattering downstairs and our assailants move closer. Commands are shouted in Italian while my men fight to keep the fuckers at bay.
I grab another handgun and extra magazines before kissing Lyla one last time, preparing to lock her inside.
“Wait! You can’t?—”
I ignore her cries while I push her back, closing the steel doors and engaging the seven-point security system.
Shoving my feet into a pair of sneakers by the door, I storm back downstairs and barely clear the landing when shots are fired my way. I dive to the floor, then army-crawl into the formal parlor, seeking concealment behind a leather wingback chair. The sound of boots stomping on hardwood surrounds me while bullets seem to fly in all directions.
I peer out from behind my cover, moving back before one of the masked intruders manages to land a shot. Sliding my hand beneath the chair, I aim at the gunman’s ankles, shooting them both before he falls to the floor in agony. I’m not taking any chances, so I fire off a few more rounds, then rush to his dead body and strip him of his weapon.
Without any communication, I’m going in blind, but my guys have trained for this and they all know what to do. My guards have worked for this family for years, each of them prepared to die to secure the Vanetti legacy. One of them is assigned to protect my safe room, assuming I’m the one locked inside.
I peek around the parlor door and see Tony climbing the stairs two at a time, relief flooding my veins as he takes his position. I don’t worry about Lyla upstairs because, God-forbid someone makes it to the third floor, my man will never let them get to her.
Spotting a dark figure in the kitchen, I crouch down and stealthily move along the wall. I don’t wait for him to turn around before shooting him in the head from the doorway, a satisfied smirk on my face when he drops to the ground.
I duck in time to avoid a shot fired in my direction from another attacker coming through the back patio door. Sinking to my knees, I slide across the floor to the other side of the island, peering around the side to pop off two rounds. I hit him in the thigh, taking him down while he groans in pain and blood spurts from his wound. I could leave him to bleed out, which shouldn’t take more than five minutes, but I want the gratification of looking into his eyes when he takes his last breath. I stand over him and aim my weapon at his forehead, his eyes widening as I pull the trigger.
The gunfire slows to a stop and I survey the wreckage around me, blood and bullet holes marking almost every surface. Movement from the entrance leading to the dining room catches my attention and I draw my weapon. Paulie and Dante enter the kitchen, their guns trained on one of the intruders while they shove him toward me.
I lower my gun, but stay alert, knowing you can’t take your eyes off these fuckers for a second. “Where’s the rest of ?em?”
“Dead.” Dante smirks before punching the assailant in the gut.
“And us?” I’m not stupid enough to think everyone made it out of this unscathed.
A grim expression covers Paulie’s face. “Nico and Bobby. A few others took hits, but they’ll survive.”
Fuck . Bobby’s girl just gave birth to their first son. I can’t bring them back, but I’ll make sure both men’s families are well taken care of.
“Call Sal to fix ?em up. Then call the cleaners.” This isn’t the first time we’ve experienced an attack and it won’t be the last, but we all know what needs to be done.
Fury rages within me as I approach the masked man. I smash my fist into his face, then tear off his balaclava.
“Who sent you?” My tone is deceptively calm as I prepare to take another life.
The fucker has the balls to spit at my feet. “Fuck you.”
I hit him with a right, then a left hook, and a few of his teeth fly out of his busted mouth. “Who. Sent. You?”
He gives me a bloody grin, but remains silent.
Always down to torture a motherfucker, Dante draws his hunting knife and steps closer to the man. I halt him with a raised palm.
“Don’t bother. The Celtic clover on the inside of his wrist tells me everything I need to know.” I hold out my hand, and Dante passes his weapon to me. Donohue’s man fights my guys, but they each take an arm and keep him still. I stand toe-to-toe with the Irish bastard, glaring into his eyes and holding his head up by a fistful of hair. “I’ll see you in hell.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I silence him when I drag the sharp blade across his throat, sadistically pleased when blood pours from the deep wound.
I clean the knife on the man’s shirt before they release his corpse, and it crumples on the floor. Returning the weapon to Dante, I tell them, “I need to get Lyla out of here. Come by the penthouse when you’re done.”
Paulie nods, and I turn to head upstairs.
I call out Tony’s name before I reach the top, letting him know to stand down. His brow is wrinkled as he watches me approach him. “I thought you were in there.” He hikes his thumb over his shoulder.
I scoff. “What kind of crime boss hides like a coward?”
He pinches his lips together and straightens his stance.
“Help the others downstairs. I’ve got this.” I don’t wait for Tony to leave before entering the ten-digit code into the keypad and disengaging the locking mechanism of the steel door.
As soon as the room is open, Lyla flings herself at me, wrapping her legs around my waist and almost choking me with her embrace. Her tears dampen my bare skin, stinging slightly when they seep into my shallow cuts and scrapes.
“It’s okay, Princess. Don’t be scared. You’re safe now.” I stroke her hair while shushing her sobs.
She leans back and studies me with red, puffy eyes. “I wasn’t worried about myself. I was worried about you.” She twists to the side and points to the row of monitors displaying the security feeds from the cameras all over the house. “I saw everything. I was sure they were going to kill you.” She circles my neck with her arms again and squeezes tight, as if I might disappear.
“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Lyla. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She looks at me. “Promise me you won’t. You’re all I have left, Marco. I’ll be all alone if?—”
“I promise. You’ll always have me, Princess. I love you.” Both our eyes go wide at my confession as we stare at each other with a pregnant pause. I’ve never told anyone that I love them, not even my family, and the words feel foreign on my tongue. They also feel right, and I don’t regret saying them. In fact, I want to say them again, even if she doesn’t say them back. “I love you, Lyla.”
Fresh tears spill down her face when she smiles. “I love you too.”