Page 37 of Claimed Through Deception

I pull my fist back. I drive it into his ribs.

The sickening crack of bone echoes in the quiet office. Salvo screams, a wet, agonizing sound, and sags against the bookshelf.

I hit him again. A sharp, brutal strike to his jaw. Blood splatters against the spines of the leather-bound books.

"Niccolò," Enzo says sharply.

I ignore him. I grab Salvo by the throat with both hands. I am going to crush his windpipe. I am going to snap his neck and let him drop to the floor. The violent urge is a roar in my ears, drowning out the room, drowning out logic.

The heavy oak doors open.

The soft click of the latch barely registers over the rush of blood in my head. But the scent hits me.

Vanilla soap.

I freeze. My hands are still locked around Salvo’s throat. His face is turning purple, his eyes rolling back.

I turn my head.

Livia stands in the doorway. She holds a silver tray bearing a crystal decanter of bourbon and a single glass. She wears her black uniform, the white apron spotless.

She stops just inside the room. Her dark eyes sweep over the scene. She looks at Alessio leaning against the wall. She looks at the heavily armed Capos. She looks at the blood smeared across the bookshelves, and finally, she looks at my hands wrapped around a dying man’s throat.

My Capos stare at her. They expect her to scream. They expect her to drop the tray and run.

She does neither.

Her face remains completely blank. She steps further into the office, the door clicking shut behind her. She walks across the room, her sensible black shoes making no sound on the hardwood. She bypasses Dante and Silvio. She ignores Alessio. She walks straight to my desk and sets the silver tray down with a soft, metallic clink.

Then, she turns to look at my men.

"I need you guys to excuse us," she says.

Her voice is calm. It doesn't shake. It holds no fear.

The silence in the office is deafening. Dante looks at her, his brow furrowing in disbelief. He looks at Enzo, then at me. A maid just ordered two Capos, a Consigliere, and the brother of the Don out of a room.

Alessio lets out a low, disbelieving whistle. "Are you out of your mind, sweetheart?"

Livia doesn't look at him. She keeps her eyes fixed on Dante. "Leave the room. All of you."

Dante scowls, taking a step toward her. "What the—"

"Do what she says."

My voice is a harsh rasp.

The men freeze. Dante’s mouth snaps shut. Even Enzo looks surprised, his icy mask slipping for a fraction of a second.

I release Salvo. He collapses to the floor, gasping frantically for air, coughing up blood onto the Persian rug.

I step away from the bookshelf. I look at Enzo. "Take him to the basement. Get out."

Enzo nods. He gestures to Dante and Silvio. They grab Salvo by the arms, dragging his limp body across the floor. Alessio pushes off the doorframe, shooting a lingering, fascinated look at Livia before following them out. The doors shut, and we are alone.

I stand in the center of the room. My chest is heaving. The feral rage is still buzzing under my skin.

Livia turns to face me. She looks at my bruised knuckles. She looks at the wild, unhinged darkness in my eyes. She doesn't back away. She doesn't cower.