God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

It’s been a week since I kissed Gabriella in the sunroom, and even though I’ve made up my mind, I haven’t been home since.

Work has kept me fucking busy, and then Dario’s woman got kidnapped. It’s been one shit show after the other.

I met Dario’s girlfriend at a ballet show earlier tonight and could see how much he already loves her. He’s fallen hard and fast, and if we don’t get her back, I have no idea what it will do to Dario.

The drug dealers that grabbed Eden right from under our noses are either fucking stupid or brave. I don’t know Eden at all, but you don’t touch a capo’s woman and life to tell the tale.

Angelo, Dario, and I are sitting in a helicopter while Carlo flies us toward a yacht where girls will be sold as sex slaves.

Dario got the lead on the black market, and I can tell my friend is about to lose his shit. The only thing keeping him in line is the authority I have over him.

When Carlo lands on the helipad of the supersized yacht, Angelo gets out first before Dario follows. I’m last to step onto the deck and notice a man approaching us.

“We weren’t expecting a fourth party,” the man says.

Carlo comes to stand beside me, his weapon already drawn as he fold his hands in front of him.

“We invited ourselves,” Dario mutters, his tone laced with a fuck ton of impatience.

Kristian Anderson comes up a set of stairs accompanied by two armed guards, and I instantly feel agitated.

The flesh peddler doesn’t bother looking at Angelo and Dario. His eyes lock with mine, then he asks, “What’s the Cosa Nostra doing here? This isn’t your territory.”

The fuck it isn’t. The bastard is selling girls just off the coast of New York and pushing his fucking luck.

One day I’ll have to deal with the fucker.

I feel Dario’s eyes on me as he asks, “You know him?”

“Kristian,” I mutter. “Sex trafficker. Let me handle this,” I order.

Feeling fucking exhausted, I step forward and say, “I’m here for a specific girl.”

“We don’t have anyone who belongs to the Cosa Nostra,” Kristian replies.

Wanting this over and done with, I mutter, “Show us the girls, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Only you. The rest wait right here,” he agrees.

When I start to walk, Carlo sticks to my side. I can feel the tension coming off him and know he won’t hesitate to jump into action should shit go sideways.

By the stairs, a guard shakes his head at Carlo, and I give the fucker a dark glare. “Where I go, he goes.”

“Let him come,” Kristian snaps from the foot of the stairs.

I head down and follow Kristian to a room. He shoves the door open, and I glance over the five young girls who look drugged out of their fucking minds.

Disgust ripples over my skin, but not showing any emotion on my face, I turn around and walk back to the helipad.

Seeing the question on Dario’s face when I reach him, I shake my head. “Let’s go. We’re wasting our time here.”

We all pile back into the helicopter and when the aircraft lifts into the sky, I rub my fingers over the headache pounding against my temple.

My phone starts to ring, and thinking it’s one of my men, I pull the device out. Not recognizing the number, I accept the call and press the device to my ear.

I’m fucking surprised when I hear Gabriella ask, “Damiano? Are you there?”

Just hearing her voice makes some of the tension ease in my shoulders, and it catches me by surprise.

When I kissed her to test the attraction between us, I almost got knocked onto my ass by the intensity. I haven’t kissed a woman since my early twenties, and feeling Gabriella’s lips tremble against mine stripped me bare.

I had to force myself to break the kiss and walk away so I wouldn’t fuck her right there in the sunroom.

Christ. I still need to arrange shooting lessons for her. If she’s going to be my wife, she has to know how to handle a gun.

Not wanting to talk to her in front of Angelo and Dario, I mutter, “I’m busy.”All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

She sounds worried when she asks, “Are we going to talk about what happened between us?”

“No.”

“Seriously?” When she talks again, her tone is tense. “Fine. Are you going to send me back to my parents?”

Christ. I can feel Angelo and Dario staring at me.

Needing to end the call, I grumble, “No.”

“Then let’s talk about the kiss,” she demands.

Not wanting to give anything about our conversation away to the other men, I once again mutter, “No.”

“Damiano,” she says. “You can’t leave me hanging like this. Talk to me.”

I suppress a sigh. “No”

“This is hard for me. I can’t keep living with my life up in the air.”

Fuck. I didn’t even consider her feelings.

Regret creeps into my chest, the emotion foreign and unwelcome.

“I know,” I grind the word out.

“Please,” she begs. “Just tell me what you plan to do with me.”

Gabriella should never beg for anything. Instead, she should lift her chin and tell me to fuck off.

“Christ, I don’t have time for this,” I snap. “Don’t call again.”

I end the call and shove the device back into my pocket.

“Who was that?” Angelo asks.

“No one,” I mutter. “Carlo, take us back to land.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Carlo mumbles. “We need to fuel up if we’re going to continue searching.”

“I need to get to my system at my place,” Dario says. “We’re wasting time out here.”

During the flight back to the mainland, I push my personal problems to the backburner so I can focus on finding Dario’s woman.

Once all this shit is dealt with, I’ll let Gabriella know I’ve decided to marry her. Only then will I feel comfortable letting the other four heads of the Cosa Nostra know about her existence.

At least my mother will be happy to hear I’m getting married.

And me?

Gabriella’s a beautiful little spitfire. At the very least, she’ll keep me on my toes.

The corner of my mouth lifts at the thought. It’s fleeting, but it offers me a reprieve from all the tension bearing down on my shoulders.