Page 68 of Rescued By the Mafia

twenty

Snapdragon Blooms

Bishop had blacked out before Dante could finish searing off his testicles. Dante wasn’t exactly surprised, but he was somewhat disappointed. He’d have loved to continue beating on the son of a bitch in all sorts of twisted ways, maybe even test out some new ones. But he got no satisfaction out of whaling on a pile of limp, bleeding flesh, no matter how much he despised the face it wore. So, once he was done burning away any outward physical claim Paul Bishop might have had to manhood, Dante stood and handed off the torch. That was perhaps the most uncomfortable use he’d ever found for the thing, on an instinctual level, but he shook the feeling off.

“Looks like he’s done,” Dante said. He turned to find Iris’s watchful gaze. Pride filled his chest at the subtle pink hue still staining her cheeks and the way her lips tipped in a soft, grateful smile as soon as their eyes met. He didn’t see a spec of discomfort. She wasn’t crying or curling in on herself, let alone shaking or hiding on the backside of the old chair. Instead she sat right where he’d left her, observing everything like a fucking queen. “We can force him awake for a few more minutes if you have anything specific in mind for him.”

He watched her move her gaze to the poor excuse of a male unconscious and bleeding at his feet. He watched her shoulders lift with an intake of breath. She was calm. He remembered the night they’d met and the way she’d reacted when he’d asked her about having enemies. The way she’d been so paralyzed by her fear she couldn’t even articulate a response. The difference between her in that moment and the sight in front of him was night and day.

He wondered if Iris realized how strong she was.

“No,” Iris said, returning her gaze to his. “I’m satisfied.” She smiled at him. “Thank you, Dante.”

Dante didn’t bother biting back his return smile. He didn’t care that his men could see it, or the warmth that filled it. He’d do fucking anything for her. Destroying her nightmares was only the beginning. “All right, then.”

He turned, found the knife he’d been using, and stepped around until he could rest a knee on Bishop’s restrained and shaking chest. Usually he left the last blow for one of his men, partly to reinforce the sense of solidarity and partly for the deniability that came with not being the man who’d technically done the killing. Neither factor mattered more than being the one who permanently extinguished Paul Bishop. So he brought the knife to Bishop’s throat and, in one final act of vengeance, he slashed the already bloodied blade across Bishop’s jugular.

It was quick, messy, and almost unsatisfying in its finality. But Dante’s satisfaction wouldn’t come in the death. It would come in Iris’s realization of freedom. The way she blossomed without the weight of this monster hanging over her was a sight he couldn’t wait to see.

Dante stepped away from the fresh corpse, dropped the blade they would have to dispose of, and turned his focus to the other men in the room. “Make sure all this—” He motioned to the body and the bucket against the wall. “Disappears. You won’t have to worry about legal problems if any of this falls back on us, understand?”

“Yes, Boss,” came the response.

Iris was standing by the time he returned to her, his suit coat folded over her arms as if she’d simply been waiting. She smiled at him with tears lining her eyes. “We should get you home and cleaned up.”

He wrapped his arm around her and stole one more kiss, letting it linger. “We should.” Getting clean wasn’t really on his mind, but he wasn’t opposed to washing off the blood and shedding his ruined clothes. Again. “How do you feel about visiting the jeweler tomorrow?” He asked as he held the door open for her.

Iris flashed him a laughing smile. “I recall someone saying something about having to actually go into the office tomorrow.”

She wasn’t wrong. He’d been out of the office more than he typically preferred and he was bound to be swamped with irritating messages and meetings the moment he returned. It would be a small miracle if his assistant hadn’t quit. “I’m sure we can find the time,” he said anyway.

“Well, if you have the time,” she said. She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I want to order you something custom.”

He paused and arched a brow. “You want to order me something custom?”

“I realize it’s technically your money—”

“It’s our money, Snapdragon.”

Her smile brightened again. “I might have researched more than dresses the other night. And I got ideas.”

They stepped out into the comparatively fresh air, the sun lost below the horizon, and Dante tipped her chin up to hold her gaze again. “Then we’ll make the time. Give me the morning to deal with whatever’s come up at work, then come grab me at lunch. I’ll introduce you to Grace before we go.”

Confusion pinched her brow. “Grace?”

Dante bit back his misplaced amusement. “My personal assistant at DS Industries. She thinks she works for a moody but upright businessman.” And it worked out for him to have a genuinely innocent pair of hands embroiled in the main business, so since she was capable, he’d allowed her to hold on to that delusion.

Iris’s confusion gave way to a small grin. “In other words, I shouldn’t mention the things you do when you’re out of the office?”

He let his hand slide to her nape. “That would be preferable.”

Enzo pulled open the door to the SUV for them and Iris climbed in first, Dante following right behind. They were most of the way back to the house when Iris shifted in her seat and asked, “Do we know what happened with the spiderweb guy?”

Dante smiled. The one part of his future that had always been in question was whether or not he’d find a woman and settle down, let alone find a partner who didn’t shy away from the life he lived. He understood full well how lucky he was to have found all of that in Iris Jayne. But he kept those thoughts to himself for the time being and instead answered simply, “Cris has him. Whatever he knows, we’ll know in twenty-four hours.” He reached out and pulled her hand into his. “Gang wars like this sometimes take a little time, but in the end we will win.”

Iris nodded and let out a slow breath. “It really has been a long day.”

“It has. And you’ve been a fucking champ.” He gave her hand a squeeze as the SUV rolled into the garage. “It’s time to celebrate.”

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