Page 2 of Craving Chaos

My fingers clench in a fist.

How dare he call my cousin as though I’m not standing right here. And on top of that, he assumes I’m afraid to get dirty like some sort of pretty princess. What I wouldn’t give to land him on his pompous ass.

His stare licks down my body, and I debate how much trouble I’d be in if I swept his feet out from under him. Imagining the cracking sound of his back slamming on the concrete teases a twitch from the corner of my lips, but every ounce of my glare spears him with violence. His blue gaze glints with a spark of victory, leading me to believe my reaction is exactly what he was hoping for. He placed the call intentionally to get under my skin.

He clearly has no idea who he’s dealing with.

“Yeah, later this week works,” he continues. “Should have the damn thing up and running by then … appreciate your understanding. Later.”

He ends the call, smugness radiating off every muscular inch of him.

I resist the urge to cross my arms or show any other sign of irritation. “I’m surprised you took the time to handle this matter personally. Figured now that you’re running things, you’d have more important matters to deal with, but not everyone adjusts well to leadership.” I take a tiny step forward. A challenge.

My blood sings with anticipation and the call to battle.

I refuse to back down from a man like Donati, who slathers on self-importance to hide latent insecurities like cheap foundation over a raging case of acne. That’s what happens when Daddy hands you the role of boss without ever making you earn anything. I’ve scraped and clawed my way to where I am. It builds character. The process also gave me the opportunity to study the men who hold power in the world around me. Disappointing is a massive understatement. And I’ve had plenty of subjects to analyze since organized crime has been slow to progress out of the Dark Ages where women’s rights are concerned.

Renzo shoots me an arctic glare. “You know an awful lot about leadership for someone who’s never run anything in her life.” He mirrors my step forward, our feet now inches apart.

“At least I’ve earned where I’m at.”

His hand lifts like he’s going to touch me, but I never give him the chance. I grab that hand and spin myself under our joined arms until his is bent back behind him. Then I wrap my other arm around his neck until he’s in a headlock. The move takes maybe three seconds. Max.

Two seconds in, his guys pull out their guns, leading mine to do the same.

“Enough,” Renzo roars hoarsely through my hold on him.

I release him, not wanting to start a bloodbath. He’s clearly furious. I expect him to whirl around and unleash his anger on me, but he shocks me by charging toward his men instead.

“Put that fucking thing away, and if you ever threaten her again, I’ll kill you myself.”

The shocked silence after his savage reprimand is deafening.

I give my guys a nod to signal they should put their guns away.

“What they say is true.” Renzo turns back to me. “You can hold your own in a fight.” His tone shifts so dramatically that he doesn’t even sound like the same man. His acidic bark from seconds earlier is now a velvet caress when addressing me. I’m instantly wary.

“I can do a hell of a lot more than hold my own.”

“That may be true, but what you can’t do is make that hunk of metal work.”

We both glance at Sammy standing next to the forklift after jumping to his feet when things got heated. He wipes his hands on the same rag Donati used and cuts his chin to the side. “It’s the regulator, like he said.”

Hell, I’m gonna have to kick his ass later for not keeping that last tidbit to himself. I don’t need him undermining my efforts.

“There you go,” Renzo says, palms up in front of him. “Nothing to be done about the matter for now.”

I grimace. “Next time, make sure your shit’s in order so you don’t waste everyone’s time.” I sound bratty, but it’s all I have left. I spin and motion for my guys to follow me out.

His voice drifts behind me, rumbling low like distant thunder. “Not a waste from where I’m standing.”

I can’t stop from glancing back at him as I continue forward.

He’s watching me, and in the time it takes for the wings of a butterfly to flap a single beat, his baby blue stare pierces every layer of armor I have until I feel him knocking on the door to my soul. The intrusion is so sudden and unexpected that it robs me of oxygen. My lungs seize painfully, prompting me to look away and sever the connection.

What the ever-loving hell was that?

Trouble. That’s what.

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