Page 120 of Scarred Hearts

“Paulie’s accepting the imports tomorrow night, and we need a signature to make it all look legitimate,” he explained.

My hand wiggled impatiently as I waited for him to hand over the stack of papers. “I don’t sign anything without reading it first. I’ll always be a lawyer. I’ll get it back to you before tomorrow afternoon.” I tightened my gaze on his. “Any word on my guests?”

“In the barn,” he replied.

“Thanks,” I said, nodding toward the door where Giovanna had just entered the office. “Now give me some time with my wife.”

He bowed his head respectfully before leaving. As soon as he closed the door, Giovanna strutted over to me with a smile on her face.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Her eyes sparkled with lust. “Hey, sexy, powerful man.”

“Where are the kids?” I asked as she approached my side of the desk.

“They got a bunch of new stuff, so they’re going through it upstairs and packing.”

“Good,” I said as she perched on my lap. My nose buried into the curve of her neck, taking in her sweet scent as my arms wrapped around her waist. “That means I get you all to myself for a while.”

She shifted slightly, leaning away from me. “Not entirely,” she replied with a hint of laughter in her voice.

I lifted my brows.

“Jenna called and said Amber’s showing labor signs, and they’re inducing her in four hours, so we’re needed back there.”

“Why?” I countered. “Neither of us are delivering those babies.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “The kids and I will go without you then, Mr. Important.” A playful glint sparkled in her eyes as she teased me.

“I have something to handle down at the barn,” I stroked her thigh, “then we can leave.”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brow, “she’s also looking for Ian. He ran out for an errand a few hours ago and hasn’t returned yet. He’s not answering his phone. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that.” Snickering, she pressed her lips to mine and stood, parading across the room. “Don’t get too bloody, even though it does look sexy on you.” She winked before opening the door, disappearing into the hallway.

I stood, sliding my hands deep into my pockets, staring out through the large windows at the barn situated across the lush green lawn at the rear of the property. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head, reminding myself that my responsibilities as head of the family never truly ended. But as long as Giovanna and our children were safe and happy, it was a burden I was willing to bear.

Stepping over to the desk, I holstered my gun against my back and grabbed the silencer from the drawer, along with my pack of cigarettes and lighter. As I made my way outside through a side door, I lit a cigarette and took deep drags on it while I trekked down the long path to the barn.

When I reached the door, I flung the cigarette onto the rough gravel, crushing it under my shoe. I rolled up my sleeves to my elbows, revealing a web of scars and intricate sleeve tattoos that now covered my forearms. Gripping the door handle tightly, I yanked it open, entering the dimly lit room.

“We don’t have much time,” I announced under my breath.

“What’s going on?” Ian questioned, his gaze flicking between me and the door.

“Jen knows you’re gone, and Amber’s having the twins tonight, so their Godfather should be present, don’t you think?”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Then, you better end this quickly so I can be.”

A sly smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth as I slowly turned to face Beau, Jenna’s former bodyguard, who was now secured to a wooden chair in front of us. His thick arms were bound with sturdy ropes, and his legs were tightly fastened to the seat. I’d ordered Ian to hand him over to me after I couldn’t get what he said about Giovanna out of my head.

“I believe you called my wife a little bitch.”

He thrashed against the restraints, his muscles tensing and jerking as he tried desperately to free himself from the chair. The ropes dug into his skin, leaving red indentations and causing him to grunt in pain. Muffled sounds came from behind the tape covering his mouth.

“What?” I leaned closer, ripping off the tape with a quick motion.

“Ahhh!” he shouted, wincing as the tape pulled at his facial hair. “I said that over a year ago, and I’ve apologized to her since then! She said she forgave me!”

My lips tightened into a firm line as I reached for my pistol, pulling it from its holster and attaching the silencer. I cocked the gun and pressed the muzzle against the center of his forehead. “She might have forgiven you,” I snarled, “but I don’t.”

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