Page 22 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“The ranch,” I tell him as I get into the back seat.

The ride there is only twenty five minutes, at a prime location close to the city, but not so close that it draws unnecessary attention. It’s closed off to the public; and with the roof falling off its hinges as well as the huge two-story front house that looms ominously, anyone nosy enough to poke around is immediately deterred.

Tanner parks the SUV at the back of the house. Although the ranch is far off the beaten road, I’d prefer not to draw undue attention to the activities about to take place here. I make my way to the big slaughterhouse next to the windmill. Ironic that the slaughterhouse is out front with the stalls for the animals behind it. When this ranch was still active, could the other animals hear as their peers were being killed? Sick.

I push the double doors open; the people standing around the space turn to look at me. “They said anything interesting yet?” I ask as I take in Felix and Luka Giovanni as well as ten other men tied to the iron chairs by their hands and feet.

“No, but I have no doubt they’ll start yapping now that you’re here,” Isaac answers as he passes an iron chair to me. The shit is heavy, but I don’t let it show on my face as I spin it around and straddle it backward.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?” I don’t really expect an answer, but a man whimpers at the back.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Moratti, I was just following orders, I–” I nod at Isaac, and he raises his gun to shoot the blubbering idiot. I nod again and he shoots the man next to the dead one just in case the others get any ideas.

“If you don’t have a good answer to my questions, don’t bother speaking. Of course, being mute can also be damning, but I’ll leave it to you as to which route you want to risk.”

“We watched quietly as you and your men drove us out of the capital to Newport, but enough is enough. Your reign is almost over, so enjoy it for as long as it lasts before we force you out,” Luka threatens, blood dripping down his nose from the beating he undoubtedly endured from either Isaac or one of my other men.

I chuckle, “You and what army, Luka? Look around you, nobody is leaving here alive tonight.”

“The rest of the Giovannis will–” he starts to say, but I get up from my chair unexpectedly and lift it, swinging it at his thick head before he can complete his idiotic threat. The chair he’s tied to tilts backward, and he falls with a loud thud. I move closer and bring down the chair on his head repeatedly. A squelching sound fills the air as his skull gives in.

“I give the threats, Luka, so I don’t respond well to them,” I tell his corpse as I toss the blood coated chair away in disgust and turn to his brother, Felix, who looks green. I hope he doesn’t throw up.

“And the rest of the Giovannis will do exactly what I tell them to. Don’t you agree, Felix?”

He gulps. “It was all Luka’s idea, Massimo. I swear I tried to talk him out of it but he wouldn’t listen. Please, Massimo.” His pitiful pleas trail off to a sob.

“Be a fucking man, Felix, and own up to your shit. You’re grown enough to identify lines you shouldn’t cross. You think I’d just sit back and watch after what you and your brother did? I can’t get back my warehouses and it’s going to take a shit ton of money to restore my club, you know?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but it was a fucking rhetorical question, so I pull the trigger of my gun before he can respond. “Now, who’s next?” I ask as I face the fear-covered faces of the other men.

“The others and I can take them,” Isaac suggests, speaking for the first time. He means my men scattered around the premises.

“Good. When you’re done, toss them in the grinder.” Another good thing about this slaughter house is that it came with an industrial-size meat tenderizer used to pulverize the meat. I had a cremating machine brought in too, but this time I don’t want their ashes.

Because I’m feeling extra gruesome today, I’m going to have them packed up and delivered to the remaining families as a reminder of what happens when you cross Massimo fucking Moratti. I want pieces of their bodies strewn about the city, so people remember that I’m not one to be fucked with. Seems that they’ve started to forget.

CHAPTER 15

ANDREA

Hudson comes barging into my room when I’m mid-scene in a very scandalous book that had me considering taking matters into my own hands–for the second time today. I glance at him; his presence alone is enough to make me fantasize about his hands doing my dirty work. A flush creeps up my neck and engulfs my cheeks, which he seems to take note off.

His eyes darken. “What are you reading, pet?”

“Nothing!” I blurt out far too quickly. “I mean nothing you haven’t read yourself; it’s from your collection after all.” One side of his mouth quirks up and his eyes squint in consideration. “Then it must be good.”

I notice that he has a garment bag draped over his arm. I toss the book on the coffee table, forgetting about the moment we just shared–until I’m alone, anyway. “What’s that?”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before giving in and throwing the black article on the bed. “It’s showtime, pet.” He grabs my chin with two fingers and tilts my face up to look into his eyes.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight,” he states in an authoritative tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” I find myself saying before I can think better of it. That seems to satisfy him because he releases me.

I walk to the bed, unzip the bag, and lift out the item to discover that it’s a long, black dress.

He’s already heading for the door when I look up. “Be ready in an hour. Help is heading up.”

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