Page 13 of Bound in Vengeance
“You can call me whatever you want,” I say coldly. “It doesn’t make it true.”
His nostrils flare.
“You ungrateful little?—”
“No,” I snap. “You don’t get to stand there and act righteous while selling your daughters like luxury handbags.”
Daniela lets out a tiny horrified sound. Camilla grips her arm hard, whispering my name under her breath like a warning.
Massimo moves so fast I barely see it. One second, he’s across the room. The next—CRACK. Pain explodes across my face. My head snaps violently to the side.
For a moment, everything goes white. A sharp ringing fills my ears. The taste of blood floods my mouth where my teeth cut into my cheek. Camilla screams at him to stop. Daniela starts crying.
The entire room goes deathly still. But only for a second. Because Alessandro moves. I barely even see it happen. One moment he’s sitting across the room. The next, he’s in front of my father. His fist flies.
My breath catches as Massimo’s head jerks sharply to the side from the force of the punch.
What the?—?
My father stumbles backward, his cane clattering loudly against the marble floor, but he doesn’t fall.
Silence slams into the foyer.
Pure, terrible silence.
I stare at Alessandro in shock.
He’s breathing harder now, chest rising beneath his black coat, his entire body rigid with violence barely contained. There’s something terrifying in his eyes. Something cold enough to freeze blood.
My father slowly straightens.
Blood drips from the corner of his mouth.
And now for the first time in my life, I see genuine shock on my father’s face.
Not because he got hit.
Because someone dared to hit him.
Alessandro takes one slow step forward.
“Don’t ever,” he says quietly, “put your hands on my fiancée again.” His voice is calm, but that’s the frightening part. “Or I’ll kill you,” he adds.
Massimo says nothing.
The two men just stare at each other.
One ageing king. And a successor looking ready to rip the throne out from under him. The tension feels alive. Like one wrong breath could turn the foyer into a massacre.
Then Alessandro steps back. He turns toward the man who arrived with him—who has been sitting in absolute silence this entire time, his expression entirely unreadable. It is highly commendable, honestly, given that this entire interaction has degenerated into a complete shit show.
“Let’s go, Valerio.”
The man rises immediately from his chair. Tall. Sharp. Quietly intimidating. His blue eyes flick briefly toward my father before returning to Alessandro.
So this is Valerio.
The infamous underboss.
