Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ENZO
“Drive,” I command the moment I slide into the car, barely restraining myself from ripping that blue dress to shreds and ravishing her right then and there.
“ Sì, signore ,” the driver responds promptly, and we speed away. As we leave the tarmac, he asks, “Where to, sir?”
“Home.” The word feels almost foreign on my tongue. I’ve made it my life’s mission not to grow too comfortable anywhere, but this is different.
After Uncle Andre dug his claws into me as a teen, Villa Luca became my sanctuary. The one place I could let my guard down, shed my skin, and just breathe. But not this time.
This time, the walls are too thin, and the shadows too deep. Uncle will be landing within the hour, and I need to be ready.
I glance out the window, trying to shake off the tension as we glide through the gates to the villa. Or rather, a cluster of villas nestled in the secluded Italian countryside.
The rolling hills are peppered with olive groves and vineyards, ancient stone buildings, and sprawling gardens. Beautiful. Private. It’s the perfect place for Bella and me, or it would be if I wasn’t on my way to a fucking welcoming party.
I narrow my eyes as the car winds through a long, cobblestone driveway, and rolls to a stop.
My brother Dante stands front and center, beaming like the cat that ate three canaries. The fucker knows I’m here with a woman, and he just won’t let it go.
Sin is to one side—because apparently, this occasion calls for an attorney—and Dory on the other.
How my meddlesome, insufferable secretary managed to finagle her way into an all-expenses-paid vacation to Italy is anyone’s guess. Though by the thickness of the folder in her hands, she’s about to give me work.
And, with any luck, my next piece of business to attend to. And when I say attend to, I mean kill.
The car pulls to a stop, and my driver rushes to open my door. I step out, calm and collected, adjusting my cuff as I wonder if Dante would prefer granite or marble for his headstone.
Before I can take a breath, Dante strides over, a smirk plastered on his face. “What’s the matter, bro? Not expecting us?” he teases, clapping me on the shoulder with far too much enthusiasm. “Did you know the D’Angelo super-jet can overtake a small transatlantic plane?” He grins, enjoying his little jab.
I grit my teeth, brushing off his hand. “Really? I guess I should’ve asked more questions when I was buying it with your black card,” I retort. “What are you all doing here?” My gaze flicks to Sin and Dory, who are both watching with far too much amusement .
“We figured whatever you’re running from would catch up eventually, and you’d need reinforcements.” He rubs his hands together eagerly. “So, where’s Savannah Whitaker, Dog Trainer to the Stars?” Dante asks, trying to peer through the darkly tinted window.
I straighten my tie as he casually plops his ass on the hood of the car, too comfortably. The last thing I need is for them to learn about Kennedy staying with me. “I’m not running from the boogeyman. That’s your department. As for Savannah, she got under my skin, so I’m doing what I do best.”
“Fucking things up?” Dante asks.
“Underwhelming her with your intellect?” Sin offers.
“I’m torturing her,” I snap.
Dory gasps, Dante crosses his arms, and Sin simply cocks his head. “How?” Sin scoffs. “You’d sooner eat canned spaghetti sauce than torture a woman. Perhaps you’re boring her to death?”
Dante smirks, not missing a beat. “Or suffocating her with your cologne?”
Dory smartly says nothing, her one hand up in surrender as if she wants no part of this. Her other hand is still clutching the folder.
“If you must know, I sent her back to the States,” I say, a smirk playing on my lips.
Dory blinks her big, clueless eyes, confusion etched across her face. “How is that torture?”
My grin widens. “I sent her back coach. Middle seat. With two layovers.”
They all wince in unison. Dante shakes his head, chuckling. “You sadistic bastard. ”
“I also let her fly without any of her credit cards or toiletries, including her over-the-top makeup. And I kept this.” I pull out Savannah’s cell, flipping it in the air with a careless flick of my wrist. “A little punishment for her snitching to Caleb Knox.” I unlock the phone and toss the phone to Sin. “I reprogrammed the passcode.”
We all know the passcodes. Whoever sets it, it’s the first four digits of our name. ENZO equals 5-6-9-6.
He unlocks it, the lines of his brow hardening. “Agent Knox,” he says, exhaling sharply. “So the FBI is not only watching you, they’re infiltrating your operation with a snitch. And a high-priced, high-profile one at that.”
Dante’s hand lands on my arm with a sharp smack. “You must be doing something right.”
“Knox,” Sin says, the name rolling off his tongue like it’s laced with bitterness. “Now there’s a guy I’d like to torture slowly. Just to find out what he knows about our family and the disappearance of your father.”
“In due time,” I assure him. “But I have bigger fish to fry.”
“We,” Dante says, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “There’s nothing the D’Angelos like better than a fish fry.”
“We’re all in this together,” Dory says, her tone sweet and delusional as usual. She links her arm in Sin’s, and we look so much like the quartet from The Wizard of Oz it’s embarrassing.
I wrench myself free from their clutches and jab a finger at their smug grins. “Look, I didn’t fly my ass halfway around the world to be suffocated by familial warmth. I need my space.”
And my privacy, because God only knows how loud Bella might get.
Sin sweeps his hand across the expansive landscape. “The grounds of the villa are vast. Two main houses. Seven smaller ones, if you can call ten-thousand-feet small. The furthest one is over that hill,” he points out. “Secluded, private entrance, lakefront views. It’s also far enough away that we won’t be disturbed by your victims’ screams in the night.”
I snatch the folder from Dory’s hand and snap my fingers. Instantly, my driver opens the car door. “Then that’s the one I’ll take.”