Page 13 of Married to the Mafia Devil

“No. Just keep an eye on the door. I’ll deal with this myself.”

I snap the phone shut, urgency propelling me forward. Even if stealing the case hadn’t already signed their death warrants, they’ve scared Emma.

Her safety, her well-being, has become my singular focus, an obsession that's tightened its grip on me with every passing second since those bastards took her. I warned them what would happen if they didn’t let her go, warned them I would torture them until they begged for death. They still think they can play me?

The only question is why did they take her? As far as they know, she means nothing to me.

As I weave through the traffic, my mind fills with the thought of her. Scared and alone with those bastards. A fury builds in me that's all-consuming.

She’s been taken because of me. If I hadn’t come after her father, these two wouldn’t have gotten scared, they wouldn’t have come to his place. She’s in danger because of me.

So what? I don’t normally give a shit what happens to anyone. So why does she matter so much?

I have no answer beyond her innocence. That light in her soul that hints there could be something outside the darkness that’s consumed me for years.

I’m not thinking about that now. I’m thinking of their screams, sweet music to my ears. They will die screaming.

My reputation, built on violence and bloodshed, is not just a tale whispered in the dark corners of the city. It's a warning, a promise of retribution for those foolish enough to cross me. And tonight, I'm not just Matteo Rossi, feared head of the Rossi crime family; I'm the devil. I will slaughter anyone who hurts her.

Petrovitch, with his brothels and his underground empire, so certain his establishments are safe from the likes of me. No doubt that’s why they’ve taken her there. They think his name will be enough to protect them. I bet they think they can negotiate. Think taking a hostage will make it easier to appeal to my softer side. I haven’t got one.

Like clockwork, my cellphone rings. “We got your attention yet?” one of the assholes says down the line. “We got your girl. Must hurt knowing she’s with us. How about you let us walk and we simply give her back? You’re a businessman. You know a good deal when you hear it.”

I pull up outside Flesh. Alex climbs out of his car and into mine, his binoculars pointed at the door, watching Peter marching back and forth outside. There’s no one else to be seen. At night, the place would be alive with rich clients come to fuck the drug addicted and the vulnerable. This time of day, the street is empty.

I grip my cellphone tightly to my ear as the asshole rambles on. “This is how it’s going to work. We want a car, a good one, that Bentley of yours should do. Out front of Flesh in thirty minutes. We come out with the girl and we get in the car. She comes with us to the airport. We get on a flight to Rio and you take her home with you.”

“Make it first class,” his friend yells from the background.

I don’t give a shit what they want. They won’t be alive in ten minutes.

It’s often this way. People think my reputation is overblown, that no one can be as violent as me, as cold, as cruel. By the time they realize the truth, it’s too late.

“Sure,” I say. “Whatever you want. Let me talk to the girl.”

“Who is she?” he asks as I climb out of the car. “Why does she matter so much to you?”

Losing her is not an option. She means more to me than she knows, more than I've let myself acknowledge until now. I can’t let them know how obsessed I am. I must remain in control.

My voice grows louder. “You touch her and you die. Is that clear?”

“Told you,” he says to his friend, too stupid to be frightened. “She does mean something to him. Maybe he’s her sugar daddy.”

“Then get some money out of him,” the other voice yells. “Good money.”

“A million,” the one in charge says. “Put it in the car or I cut her throat right now.”

I make my voice sound fearful. “You’ll get your money but I need time. I don’t have that much cash on me.”

“Thirty minutes to find it or she’s dead. Clock’s ticking.”

The line cuts out. I turn to Alex. “When they come out, hold them. Do not kill them. Got it?”

He nods. I head for the front door of the brothel. Peter sees me approaching, straightening up at once. “Don Rossi,” he says, inclining his head. He’s almost as tall as me but he looks frightened. He knows how my reputation was earned.

“I’m going in,” I tell him.

“Have to call the boss.” He sounds apologetic. “He’ll kill me otherwise.”

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