Page 36 of The Last Vendetta

With my heart lodged in my throat, my side stitching with the need to breathe faster, I clung to Renzo and did my best not to pass out from the dizzying, nauseating hit of panic.

“Just—”

Renzo fired, hitting the guard who reached for me and yanked me by my hair.

“You motherfuck—” Another gunshot ended whatever the other Romano soldier would’ve tried to shout.

Renzo fired twice more, sinking bullets in their heads.

Then he turned to me, furious. His eyes glittered with rage as he lowered to haul me into his arms, then over his shoulder, and ran.

12

RENZO

Renzo

“Do not say a fucking word,” I told Giulia as I set her on her feet and shoved her to get her into the car.

I sprinted around the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. By the time I turned the car on and sped out of there, I had Dean on the line. Anchoring my phone between my ear and shoulder, I drove out of there as fast as I could.

Of all fucking women to show up there…

“I need you to clean up at the club.” Ignoring Giulia’s shallow, quick breaths from the passenger seat, I focused on driving as fast as I could and telling my right-hand man what I needed. Those Romanos in the alley would need to be disposed of. The cameras back there would need their footage wiped clean. And more men would need to be present at the club to explain to Nickolas why I’d disappeared.

Damage control. I dealt with it swiftly, knowing Dean would handle it all.

By the time I finished instructing him, I’d reached the underground door to the building Giovanni owned. It wasn’t the fanciest building in the city, but it was a convenient stopover. Luka used to bring hostages to the basement. Other Bernardi men used it as a place to hide things. And on the top floor, I’d carved out my niche with a bachelor pad when I was too wasted or lazy to drive all the way home after partying.

I led Giulia up there. While she didn’t protest, I didn’t care for her searing glare. I felt her glower, her incensed stare as I forced her into my penthouse, but I didn’t give a fuck if she thought I was being bossy.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I demanded once I shut and locked the door.

She didn’t cower. She didn’t fidget. Standing tall in the middle of my living room, she lifted her chin. Defiant. Stubborn.

“What the fuck”—I gripped her chin and forced her head up so she’d look me in the eye as I stalked up into her space—“were you thinking?”

She stalled, pulling her lower lip between her teeth to worry the plump flesh.

“Answer me!” I released her and growled, so furious that I couldn’t contain it.

Looking her over, I took in the full effect of her disheveled, slutty attire. The dancer’s costume was ripped, torn and dirty from the fall to the pavement outside. Her long black locks hung over her shoulder, but on her other arm, the fingerprints of that fucker’s grip remained visible on her skin.

Red and angry. Just like how I felt that another man had dared to touch her.

Seeing her in there had stunned me. I’d almost lost it as soon as I locked eyes with her, knowing without a doubt that it was Giulia in that sexy outfit, dancing in a private room at this club.

There was only one reason she’d ever try to sneak in as a dancer. One.

She’d come to spy. On me or Nickolas.

“Do you have any fucking idea how stupid that was? How dangerous it was?”

She crossed her arms, sassy and defensive as I roared at her, but I was too livid to let her think she could stand up to me like this right now.

I growled, stalking toward her. She lost her stance, lowering her arms and backpedaling.

“Spying on a fucking meeting?” I yelled as I went after her. She tripped, fumbling her way around the furniture and through the room, but she didn’t dare look away.

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