Chapter 23 – Moretti #2
“Don’t interfere unless you’re willing to go down too,” I advise Grigoryan’s men right before I slam my fist into his jaw.
The crunch is brutal, and my knuckles burn.
He staggers, and his eyes get hazy.
One of his men moves behind him, keeping him upright.
That’s fine.
I doubt anyone wants to have to peel him off the carpet. Covering the distance between us, I shove his arm away as he tries to bring his hand to his jaw.
“You came into my establishment making wild accusations. I could have overlooked that,” I growl, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at me.
“But if you talk about my wife like that again, I don’t give a fuck what accords I have to break.
I will end you, and I won’t stop there. I’ll dismantle every level of your organization.
You can’t fight a war with no resources.
Boston won’t even remember your name when I’m through with you.
” My fingers dig into his cheeks, and I shove him back once more.
I meet Mario’s eyes, since he’s the one in command of his team.
“Get them out of here by any means necessary. They don’t step foot back inside any of my establishments. ”
Vanessa keeps up with my long strides as I drag her toward my office. Once we’re inside the safety of my private space, I lock the door and release her hand.
She might be trying to cut back on her alcohol intake, but I need a goddamn drink.
“Feel free to have a seat.” I take off for the bar in the corner, pouring myself a healthy serving of scotch. It goes down smooth, and I’m tempted to pour myself another two fingers. The only thing that holds me back is knowing it would prove exactly how much Grigoryan got under my skin.
He’s a disgusting prick.
It’s not news to me.
Hell, it’s not news to anyone.
If I’m right, he’s done much worse things than flinging around ugly words. And yet, all I can seem to focus on is the way he talked about Vanessa. He wanted to use her and discard her like he did his last three wives, and the thought infuriates me even more.
There’s an actual red tint to the edges of my vision.
Goddammit.
He needs to bleed.
I want to rip him apart with my bare hands. I’d keep him in a constant state of agony, visiting often to listen to his pleas for death. He wouldn’t get off easy like Stephen. That waste of space spent three days being tortured, but Grigoryan deserves a hundred times that.
It’s not just about Vanessa, although that cuts extra deep. If that’s the way he’s willing to talk about and treat a woman with an audience, he’s capable of much worse when he knows he’s not being observed.
What I need is a cigarette.
I won’t be able to go back out there and strangle the man to death if my hands are busy.
I spin around, intending to grab the pack I keep in my desk drawer, but I freeze to avoid barreling over Vanessa.
She doesn’t back away.
“You defended me.” Her head tilts, and she blinks at me from behind her dark lashes. Her small hand comes to rest on my forearm, giving a squeeze. “Twice. You went after my father the other night and Grigoryan just now.”
If she’s not careful, she’s going to get herself bred and bitten.
She’s beautiful and softer than I expected. Everything I’ve seen from her over the years led me to believe that she didn’t let much get to her. I can see that now for what it truly was—a survival response to growing up without anyone to protect her.
What I said to Magnum flashes in my mind, haunting me. Even if she’s capable of strategizing ways to look after herself, she’ll never be able to physically protect herself against most men.
And the more tender I realize she is, the more ruthless my system thinks we need to be to ensure her safety.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her that we both needed to tread carefully. Otherwise, I’d end up a monster that she wouldn’t be able to stand.
Jesus.
I need to get my shit together.
I know better than to let anyone get under my skin the way I let Grigoryan get to me, but my instincts are riled to the point that I’m not sure how to settle them. I’ve always known I’m more animalistic than most of polite society, and that’s exactly why I keep a tight leash on myself.
“I did,” I agree. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to smoke.” I shuffle around her, taking off toward my desk.
“I don’t think that’s allowed inside the club.” Based on the sound, she follows me without mercy.
“Yes, well, I can slip through that panel and no longer be in this building.” I nod to the wall that leads to the empty space behind the pizza shop.
“That passageway dead-ends in a storage room.” I finally make it to the drawer, ripping out the pack of cigarettes—that’s probably stale, since it’s been so long since I was in the club.
Bringing one to my lips, I prepare to light it.
Vanessa plucks it from my mouth, tossing it into the trash.
A low growl rattles out of my chest.
“In my entire life, no one has ever defended me the way you have.” She doesn’t seem concerned as she slides between me and my desk, pushing the drawer closed. “Are you just forced to protect your image, or were you guarding my feelings?”
“Vanessa,” I growl, taking a step back. She keeps hold of my arm, and I don’t have the heart to shake out of her hold. She’s always in sky-fucking-high heels, and she’s never very sturdy. I don’t want to risk throwing her off-balance.
“Emory.” She flutters her lashes, licking her lips and following me. Her hand lands on my button-down, and her thumb sweeps over my forearm. “Why does it feel like a warning every time you say my name?”
I scoff. “Because it is.”
“Too bad I’m not scared of you.” She stretches up on her tiptoes, and everything in me says it’s dangerous to kiss her when I’m so jacked up.
My lips crash against hers, and my hand weaves around, cupping her ass before I can stop myself.
Her electric scent makes my body buzz with each inhale, and my self-control is at an all-time low.
She leans against my chest, pressing her soft curves into me.
I fucking love it.
The little moans she releases into the kiss don’t help my head stay clear.
Vanessa’s fingers dig into my shirt, and she brings her other hand to cup my jaw, fighting for dominance. She should know better, but she must be trying to trigger my instincts. She rakes her teeth over my bottom lip, which she understands will trigger my need to bite.
And fuck do my teeth ache.
Rather than acting rashly with something I can’t take back, I pull away, leaning around her to swipe everything off my desk.