Page 57 of Sinister Intentions

Unlike Gabe Falcone, who’d truly severed all ties. Had lived a whole life according to his own standards before going back.

I shook my head, dislodging the silly thoughts. I was the firstborn. Dante and Hero, and even Matt, could only have the kind of freedom they had because I was holding the fort; because I convinced my father to give them enough leeway to have at least a couple of years to live life away from the family, away from the business, away from the pressure.

At least for now.

I gave Jemma a side glance. The other part that, for some reason, did not sit right with me was taking Jemma there.

Matt’s bride.

An irrational flare of something akin to…what?…washed through me. All I really should be feeling was annoyance. Not this burning sensation, this need to…claim her? Keep her? Not have anyone else, and especially not my father, even look at her?

I pushed those unwelcome emotions aside, refusing to examine them too closely.

This was ridiculous. What a ludicrous notion—this sudden sense of possessiveness over a woman I barely knew. A woman whom I had no business messing around with or even thinking about the way I already did.

Yet there was no denying the magnetic pull she exerted, the inexplicable force that seemed to defy all reason and logic.

Somehow, she’d burrowed herself under my skin. Annoying and persisting as if she was a mosquito bite I couldn’t quite reach but desperately needed to scratch.

I turned sideways and stole another glance at her.

And that’s when I saw him, Ivan Zotov, leaning against the railing as if he’d been there the whole time when I knew for a fact he was not there when we passed just a moment ago.

I glared at him, but there was no visible reaction. I did not like that any more than I liked having him anywhere near Jemma. “Can you take Picca for a sec and wait with her over here?” I said and handed her the leash.

Then I turned and strove toward Ivan Zotov.

For a split second, I clenched my jaw tight before I forced myself to relax. The nerve of that Russian bastard showing up here, trailing me like some pathetic henchman. I wasn’t about to play his games. But I, apparently, didn’t get my message across.

I glanced around, and sure enough, my men were distributed all over the walkway and hung back, just waiting for a sign.

“What the hell are you doing here, Zotov?” I growled as I came to a stop in front of him.

He flashed me an easy smile, not even bothering to straighten from his relaxed stance against the railing. “Why, Salvini, it’s a public place, is it not? I’m simply enjoying the view.”

His nonchalant attitude only served to stoke the anger burning inside of me. What was this bastard’s agenda? I’d talked about it with Alex, but he didn’t have any more answers than I had. I stepped closer, using my height to loom over him. “Cut the bullshit. Didn’t I make myself perfectly clear last time?”

Zotov chuckled, utterly unfazed. “You think too highly of yourself. The world does not revolve around you, my friend.”

The mocking lilt in his tone grated on my nerves. I fought the urge to grab him and shove him over the railing into the river.

“Not your friend,” I bit out. “This is your second strike, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the hell away from me and mine.”

His gaze slid past me, settling on Jemma for a beat too long. A slow, infuriating smirk spread across his face. “Is that a threat, Salvini? And do you claim a woman who will soon be your sister-in-law as yours?”

He tsked. “One wonders what business you even have hanging out with your lovely future sister-in-law…especially without her future husband.”

I stepped right into his space then, our faces mere inches apart. I leveled him with a look that had made lesser men tremble.“What I do, and who I do it with, is none of your fucking business now, is it?”

He shook his head. “So possessive,” he said as if he had to think really hard. “One has to wonder what’s really going on.” He suddenly straightened. “Where are my manners? I should go and introduce myself.”

So that was what he was after—getting a rise out of me? I relaxed, even forced myself to smile. “Yes, where are your manners, interrupting someone else’s life? But there’s really no need for you to even look at her.” I narrowed my eyes and dropped the smile. “Since you will have zero interactions with her in the future, why even bother?” I said, a clear warning in my voice.

Instead of at least an acknowledgment of the threat I’d expected, Zotov simply threw his head back and laughed. “It’s always fun to watch a strong man stumble,” he said after reigning in his laughter.

“It’s even more fun if that man is you.”

I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but I held myself back. Barely. Starting a brawl in public, with Jemma watching, would only make me look like an unsophisticated thug. And having him killed or taken by my men right here wouldn’t look good, as well.

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