Page 15 of Claimed By the Don

I need this. The violence, the pain. I need to hurt something, break it apart with my bare hands until the howling ache in my chest stops feeling like it's going to swallow me whole.

Vince comes at me with a roar, meaty arms swinging. I block and parry on autopilot, my mind a million miles away. With Ginetta. Always, eternally, with Ginetta.

It's been a week since I last laid eyes on her. Seven days without the silk of her skin, the sunlight in her smile. I'm crawling out of my fucking skin, a junkie jonesing for his next hit. The need to go to her, beg her forgiveness, is a physical thing, clawing at my guts like a rabid beast. I've lost count of the number of times I've gotten in my car to do just that, pride be damned...only to chicken the fuck out at the last second like a pathetic prick.

I don't know how to do this. This...feelings shit. I've spent my entire adult life ruthlessly suppressing any weakness, any vulnerability. Emotions are a liability in my world, an Achilles heel just begging to be exploited. I learned that lesson young, at my father's knee. Watched him lose fucking everything - his territory, his influence, his life - for love of a woman. Swore I'd never make the same mistake.

And yet here I am, laid low by a sweet, curvy little college student with a spine of steel and a heart so big it terrifies me. I know Ginetta heard some ugly shit at that gala, but Christ, doesn't she realize none of it fucking matters? That she could ask me for the moon and I'd find a way to lasso it for her?

I've never felt this way about anyone. Didn't even know I was capable of it, this all-consuming need to possess, cherish, worship. But from the second I laid eyes on her, flushed and perfect in that shitty nightclub, I was ruined. Destroyed for anyone else. There's no going back to the man I was before, the ruthless bastard who cared for nothing and no one.

Because she's in my blood now, a fever I can't sweat out. And if I have to spend the rest of my miserable fucking life convincing her of that, earning back the trust...it'll be worth every second. Every drop of blood and sweat and motherfucking tears.

If she'll even fucking see me, that is.

I've sent flowers, jewelry, first editions of her favorite books...all returned unopened. I've called, texted, e-mailed...all ignored. I even wrote her a goddamn letter like some pussy-whipped asshole in a bad romance novel, pouring my fucking heart out in shitty prose. Nothing. Not a word, not a whisper.

And it's killing me. The silence, the distance. I have no idea what she's thinking, feeling. If she's hurting even a fraction as badly as I am. I just need to see her, talk to her face to face. Convince her that whatever garbage she heard from those catty bitches, it couldn't be further from the truth. What I feel for her...it's the most genuine fucking thing I've ever known. The purest.

I just need the chance to prove it.

A sudden, sharp pain explodes in my jaw, snapping my head back on my neck. I taste blood, the coppery tang flooding my mouth.

"Shit, boss!" Vince looks horrified, hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I thought you saw that one coming."

I shake my head to clear it, wiping the blood from my split lip. "S'fine," I grunt, rolling my shoulders. "I needed that."

And I did. The sting, the blood...it's centering. Grounding. A reminder that I'm not some maudlin pussy, pining for a woman like a bitch in heat. I'm Dante motherfucking Russo, capo di tutti capi. When I want something, I take it. And what I want is Ginetta, in my home, my bed, my life. For keeps this time. No more secrets, no more half-truths.

But first...I need a plan. A grand fucking gesture to show her just what she means to me, what I'm willing to do for her. For us.

I'm toweling off, my mind already whirring with possibilities, when Enzo comes bursting into the gym. His normally taciturn face is pale, etched with dread.

"Dante," he says, slightly out of breath. "It's Ginetta. Gallo's crew...they fucking took her."

The world narrows to a pinprick, a roaring in my ears. I feel the words like a punch to the solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs.

No. No no no. This can't be happening. Not her. Anyone but her.

"What the fuck do you mean, they took her?" I hear myself ask, my voice a distant, tinny thing.

"Snatched her right off the fuckin' street outside her apartment." Enzo drags a hand over his ashen face, genuine regret in his eyes. "No one saw it coming, boss. Gallo's never gone after civilians before."

The snarl tears out of me, wild and agonized. I welcome the rage, the unholy fury. It's all that's keeping me upright, stopping me from falling to my knees and howling at the cruel, merciless God I stopped believing in so long ago.

My Ginetta, my sweet girl...in the hands of that sadistic fuck Gallo. Because of me. Because I was too weak, too stupid, to stay away from her. To keep my poison well away from her light.

"Boss?" Enzo's voice cuts through the swirling chaos in my head, tentative in a way I've never heard from him. "What do you want to do?"

I close my eyes, the image of Ginetta's face rising behind my lids. Her shy smile, the spark of challenge in her eyes. The soft give of her under my hands, around my cock. I'd fucking burn the world to ash for her. Kill and main and destroy until she's back in my arms, safe.

Mine.

"Call the men," I say, my voice a scrape over gravel. "Every fucking one of them. We're going to war, and we aren't taking prisoners."

I don't wait for his response, already moving for the door. I have calls to make, favors to cash in. There will be blood tonight, rivers of it. I just pray it won't be hers.

Hold on, amore. I'm coming for you, and God fucking help anyone who gets in my way.

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