Page 4 of Brutal Revenge

The disgust that rolls through me is immediate and visceral. Nico calls him a pedophile under his breath, and Elio grabs the edge of the table between us, seconds away from flipping it.

Before either Nico or Elio can start a war I’m not ready to participate in just yet, I speak on behalf of my cock before I can tell it to sit the fuck down.

“I’ll take her.”

The don balks, thrown off by my unusual show of leniency.

“Which one?” He gestures for a man at the side to gather someone. “I havemanydaughters.”

I stray my eyes toward where the woman in white disappeared, smirking when I realize the aftershow is starting earlier than expected.

Antonio, the eldest of the Adami children, stands in the doorway of his father’s office. His face pales when our eyes collide, and his tattooed fingers dig into the woman in question’s arm.

“Her,” I say, unconcerned that I’m bartering for a man’s fiancée while standing across from her weaponed-up future father-in-law.

Her meeting with a wedding planner on this property announces she’s the wife-to-be of one of Don Adami’s sons. The Adamis’s are cheap. They wouldn’t even give you the shirt off their back if yours was blown off protecting them, so there’s no way they’d fund a wedding for someone else.

Their stinginess also announces that the brunette isn’t one of Don Adami’s daughters. He has his female offspring in a Rolodex, ready to be sold after only the slightest whiff of interest. He’d never let one age higher than the interest of seventy percent of the men he sells to.

This unnamed brunette is so striking that she would have fetched top dollar years ago.

Furthermore, the possessiveness that sparks in Antonio’s eyes the exact moment my hooded gaze lands on the brunette places his name at the top of the list.

Don Adami’s brows shoot up high, proving my intuition is on point. “Azra? She’s promised to my eldest. Antonio would be devastated.”

“Even more reason for me to take her.” I wink at Antonio, who’s now clutching Azra like she’s a possession more than a person, before I shift on my feet to face Don Adami. “Unless you’d prefer I teach your sons a lesson with my fists…andmy knife?”

I tell myself that I’m doing this to spite Don Adami, who opens and closes his mouth, fighting not to choke on his tongue, that it’s a strategy to make the Adami family experience a fraction of the humiliation they deserve, but the truth is far more dangerous.

The fire the brunette tried to hide as she endeavored to burn Don Adami at the stake with nothing but her eyes has sparked my interest. Enough to grant her future in-laws a plethora of leniencies? Not even close, but I sure as fuck would like to learn what little hellion comes out when she’s no longer forced to pretend.

Just the daggers she shoots at me when she realizes what I’m negotiating hardens my dick to a painful extent.

I can’t give up the opportunity to see what other tricks she has up her sleeve.

Negotiations drag on. They’re filled with thinly veiled threats they’ll pay for dearly the instant Antonio’s fingers are no longer marking Azra’s arm.

Antonio protests loudly. He insists Azra is his and claims their arrangement, approved by the boss of all bosses, has been set in stone for months.

When no amount of political fear-mongering works, he fans out invisible peacock feathers. “I’m Azra’s chosen groom.”

She sheepishly nods, agreeing with him, and my anger becomes hot and unstoppable. The don tries to smooth things overby offering anything to sweeten the deal if I accept the hand of one of his daughters—even the regular use of his beloved mistress.

I pluck a cigar from his desk and run it under my nose. “I’m not interested in your sloppy seconds.” Nico gags when I mutter under my breath, “Or your mistress.” I give Don Adami time to deny my nonfactual claim that he fiddles with his daughters. Seconds of silence feel like minutes. “It’s Azra or no one.”

Nico and Elio exchange a look that conveys they have no clue who the fuck I am.

Their shock is understandable.

I’m also lost.

This isn’t me. I don’t barter for a woman’s time, and I sure as fuck don’t act like I have to pay for pussy. That shit is on tap for free anytime I want it. I’ll never shell out funds, no matter how smoking the woman.

Yet here I am, negotiating with words instead of weapons.

My father would be so proud.

Eventually, after enough stalling to make me want to put my fist through a wall, the don relents. “Very well. I will transfer Azra’s marriage contract to you.”