Chapter Eleven LEO #3
“Just say the word, boss,” he said coldly. The warehouse went still. Ventura nearly dropped his whiskey glass. My cousins stopped smiling.
And I… I saw red. Pure fucking red. I crossed the warehouse before anyone could react.
Ventura barely managed a squeal before I grabbed him by the throat and slammed his fat body backward into a stack of shipping crates hard enough to shake the entire warehouse. Wood cracked violently. His whiskey shattered across the floor.
“You fucking dare,” I snarled. My hand tightened around the greasy folds of his neck while he choked and clawed at my wrist with ring-covered fingers. The smell of fear hit. Sour. Weak.
“You think,” I hissed, squeezing harder, “that you get to use my woman against me?”
“Leo…” Sergio warned quietly.
I ignored him. Ventura’s face turned blotchy red beneath my grip. The twins finally lost some of their composure.
“Easy,” Santino snapped.
“Take your hands off him,” Angelo added sharply.
I turned my head slowly toward them. Something in my expression made both men go silent again. Good. Because right then, I genuinely wanted to kill every single man in that warehouse.
Sergio still had the gun trained steadily on them, finger resting near the trigger. One word. That was all it would take. And God, part of me wanted to say it. But they were still blood. Some of the only blood I had left. I hated that fact enough to make my stomach turn.
“You listen carefully,” I said softly. The dangerous kind of soft.
“If either of you even looks at Chiara wrong again…” I tightened my grip until Ventura gagged violently. “I will burn every fucking thing you own to the ground.”
Nobody moved. Rain thundered overhead. Water dripped steadily somewhere deeper in the warehouse. The twins stared at me differently now. Not like spoiled cousins. Like men finally realizing the monster in front of them was real.
“You think she’s leverage?” I asked quietly. “You think threatening her makes you powerful?”
Neither answered. I stepped forward instead, dragging Ventura with me like dead weight. His expensive shoes scraped helplessly against the concrete floor.
“She’s mine,” I snarled.
The possessiveness in my own voice shocked me. But not nearly as much as how true it felt.
“I decide who breathes near her,” I continued. “I decide who says her fucking name.”
Ventura wheezed beneath my hand, tears leaking from his tiny pig eyes now.
“And if any of you touch what belongs to me…” My smile turned vicious. “I’ll leave your bodies floating in this harbor so bloated your mothers won’t recognize you.”
Silence swallowed the warehouse whole. Because finally they understood. This wasn’t politics anymore. It wasn’t inheritance. And it sure as fuck wasn’t business. It had become personal.
“Just say the word, boss.” Sergio’s voice cut through the warehouse like a blade.
Cold. Steady. His handgun stayed trained directly at my cousins’ chests, black metal gleaming beneath the flickering industrial lights. Rain hammered the warehouse roof hard enough to shake rust from the beams overhead while the harbor churned black beyond the loading docks.
Nobody moved. Nobody fucking breathed. And beneath my hand, Lorenzo Ventura wheezed like the bloated rat he was.
I had him pinned against a stack of shipping crates hard enough to splinter the wood behind him.
His expensive suit jacket strained against his fat body while sweat poured down his greasy face in thick shining rivulets.
Gold rings cut into my wrist as he clawed desperately at me, whiskey and fear sour on his breath.
Pathetic. This man had spent eighteen years terrorizing Chiara. Beating her. Breaking her. Selling her. And somehow he still thought he could threaten me.
Lorenzo gagged violently. But then, the fat bastard smiled. Not fully. Just enough to make something ugly crawl up my spine.
Interesting. Very fucking interesting. The twins noticed it too.
Santino’s expression sharpened slightly while Angelo slowly lowered his whiskey glass onto the table beside him. Lorenzo coughed hard against my grip, piggish eyes watering.
Then he laughed. A wet, ugly sound.
“You already lost,” he rasped.
My jaw tightened. “What?”
“I said…” He coughed again, throat straining beneath my hand. “You already lost.”
The warehouse went quieter somehow. Even the rain sounded farther away now. I stared at him carefully. And I understood something horrifying.
The old bastard wasn’t scared enough. That realization sent a cold pulse through my chest. Lorenzo smiled wider despite the bruising fingerprints darkening his neck.
“You think I gave her to you because I was afraid?” he wheezed. I said nothing. Because every instinct I had was screaming.
Wrong. Something was very fucking wrong.
“You were supposed to ruin her,” Lorenzo continued softly. “That was the plan.”
My grip tightened hard enough to nearly crush his throat. “What plan?”
The twins stayed silent now. Watching. Studying. Enjoying this. Lorenzo’s small dark eyes glittered with something foul and triumphant. “I knew all along Chiara was untouched.”
The words slammed into me harder than a bullet. For one rare second, genuine shock cracked through my control. Lorenzo saw it. And smiled wider.
“And now,” he whispered. “Now you understand.”
Rage detonated through my chest so violently I nearly snapped his neck on instinct. “You lying piece of shit.”
“No.” Lorenzo coughed painfully. “I knew exactly what she was. Sweet little virgin daughter. Innocent. Untouched.” His eyes sharpened on mine. “And I knew exactly what you were too.”
The warehouse lights buzzed overhead. Rain thundered against metal. My pulse slowed into something deadly.
“You wanted her from the moment she walked into that party. Thinking no one knew. Of course I knew. I wanted you to meet her,” Lorenzo hissed. “I know how beautiful my daughter is. I knew you’d want her.”
No. No he fucking didn’t. Because I hadn’t wanted Chiara then. I’d wanted control. Possession. A convenient bride. That was all. Wasn’t it?
Lorenzo laughed softly at whatever he saw on my face. “So I let you take her.”
Something cold and vicious opened beneath my ribs. The twins exchanged another glance. Sergio’s gun remained perfectly steady.
“You sold your daughter deliberately?” Sergio asked flatly.
Lorenzo shrugged as much as my grip allowed. “She was useful.”
I almost killed him right there. My hand tightened enough for his face to darken red-purple while panic finally flashed through his tiny pig eyes. But then he said the one thing that stopped me cold.
“You kill me…” Lorenzo rasped, choking harder now, “…and Chiara will never forgive you.”
My fingers froze. The bastard smiled again despite barely breathing. Because he knew. He fucking knew. He saw straight through me now.
“You’re attached,” he whispered.
The word hit like poison. Attached.
No. Absolutely fucking not.
“She cries,” Lorenzo continued, voice rough with strain, “and you soften.”
His smile widened. “She looks at you with those big blue eyes and the great Leonardo Moretti forgets how monsters are supposed to behave.”
“Careful,” I said softly. But Lorenzo wouldn’t stop now. Not after smelling weakness.
“I watched you,” he continued. His beady eyes glittered maliciously. “You’re already obsessed with her.”
Santino snorted quietly under his breath. That sound nearly made me pull the trigger myself.
“You think she’s yours?” Lorenzo whispered. “No. She’s still mine.”
Pure rage surged through me so violently my vision blurred red at the edges. Mine. Chiara was mine. The possessiveness rose. Primal. Brutal. Absolute. And judging by the smug satisfaction on Lorenzo’s face…
He knew that too. The realization made me sick.
“You threatening me with your own daughter?” I asked quietly.
Lorenzo’s grin turned uglier. “I’m threatening you with taking her away.”
The warehouse seemed to tilt slightly. No. Absolutely fucking not.
“You don’t get to touch her again,” I snarled.
“Oh, but I do.” Lorenzo’s voice turned almost gleeful now. “I can poison her against you so easily, Leo. Tell her exactly what kind of monster sleeps beside her.”
“I already know,” Santino muttered dryly. I ignored him completely. Because all I could hear now was Chiara crying. Chiara terrified. Chiara looking at me with hatred instead of confused want. Something dark clawed violently through my chest.
“She still believes there’s goodness in people,” Lorenzo continued viciously. “I can destroy that in a single conversation.”
My breathing turned slow. Lethal.
“And if that doesn’t work…” Lorenzo smirked. “I’ll simply take her back.”
No. Every muscle in my body locked.
“You try,” I said softly, “and I’ll bury you under this fucking warehouse.”
But Lorenzo only smiled wider. Because the old bastard hadn’t played his final card yet.
“You think you’re the only Moretti interested in her?” he asked.
Cold slid through my veins. “What?”
Santino and Angelo went quiet. Not smug anymore. Watching carefully now. Lorenzo’s piggish eyes gleamed. “Edoardo would love a go with her.”
Silence. My stomach dropped so violently it almost felt physical. No. Not him. Not my uncle. Not that fucking animal.
“Your uncle,” Lorenzo continued lazily, “was very interested once he heard about Chiara.”
Every violent instinct inside me erupted. Edoardo Moretti was sadism wrapped in Italian silk. Old enough to be Chiara’s grandfather. Cruel enough to enjoy that fact.
The kind of man who broke women slowly just to hear them cry prettier afterward. I’d seen bruises leaving his mistresses’ bodies before. Seen girls disappear after his parties. Even my father hated him. And my father had been a monster.
“You’re lying,” I snarled.
“No.” Lorenzo’s grin widened. “In fact, Edoardo made me a very generous offer.”
The warehouse air felt too tight. Too hot. I pictured Chiara beside Edoardo. Small. Terrified. Destroyed. The image hit so violently I nearly blacked out from rage.
“She’d make a lovely little wife for him,” Lorenzo continued cruelly. “Sweet. Young. Fertile.” His eyes glittered maliciously. “And unlike you, Edoardo knows how to break obedience into a woman properly.”
Something inside me snapped. I slammed Lorenzo against the crate hard enough to crack wood apart behind him. The entire warehouse echoed with the impact.
Sergio stepped forward. “Boss.”
Not warning. Concern. Because he knew exactly how close I was to murder. Lorenzo choked violently beneath my hand now, eyes bulging. Still smiling.
That was the worst fucking part.
“You don’t deserve her,” he wheezed.
“No,” I snarled. “You don’t.”
Then Lorenzo delivered the final knife straight into my ribs.
“She already hates you, Leo.” His smile turned rotten. “Imagine how easily I could make her want you dead instead.”