Page 27 of Blackmailed to the Altar

“Then why are you staring at me like that? Where I come from, looking at someone for too long can get you stabbed.” I took a small sip of my water.

I may be afraid of Riccardo, but I was done allowing him to intimidate me. I would say what I had to say, damn the consequences. It wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me backhome. If I figured Riccardo out and got rid of him, Sebastian would let go of the silly notion of marriage, and send me back to my home.

The server came back with the wine. He opened the bottle, and as he leaned forward to pour my glass, I felt the faintest brush of his skin against my shoulder. I gasped in surprise, and he lost control of his pour, spilling a bit of mine. I used a napkin to wipe it up, not even thinking of his touch. It was an accident. The harmless contact that happens a hundred times a day. A light casual touch that meant nothing, but to Riccardo, it was gasoline on a fire.

He was up in a flash, faster than I could even register. One moment, he was sitting calmly, and the next, he was looming over the poor kid, his gloved hand wrapped around his throat, as he slammed his face into the table. He leaned in close, his voice a low dangerous whisper. The server’s eyes widened in terror. His tray clattered to the floor as Riccardo squeezed. His face was a mask of cold, deadly intent.

My breath caught, panic surging as I watched the scene unfold. “Riccardo!” I shot up from my chair, my heart hammering in my chest. “Let him go!”

But Riccardo didn’t even flinch. His focus was entirely on the man struggling in his grasp, as if he’d already forgotten I was even there. He leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent chills down my spine. “Touch her again,” he growled, each word slow and deliberate, “and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The server’s face turned pale, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he clawed at Riccardo’s arm, desperate to get away. But Riccardo held him there, unflinching, like a viper toying with its prey. I knew then that this wasn’t just about a simple touch; this was a warning, an obvious message to anyone who dared to come between me and the man who saw me as his property.

“Riccardo, stop!” I reached for him, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, but he barely acknowledged me. His gloved grip only tightened, the server’s face reddening as he struggled to draw in air.

No one came running out of the kitchen to defend Elio. “Haven’t even gotten my appetizer yet, and all you can do is stare at her chest.” Riccardo released his grip, shoving the man away like he was nothing more than garbage. The server stumbled back, clutching his throat as he gasped for breath, eyes wide with terror.

I watched with sick fascination as Riccardo punished our server for the slight. Was this what the life was like?

“You think you can take that nasty tongue of yours and run it along her perfect body?” I heard Riccardo say.

“N-no, sir. I wasn’t… I-I mean–” He backed away, recognizing the predator in front of him.

“Are you saying my fiancée isn’t lickable?” Riccardo growled.

The server pissed his pants, and my fucking appetite was ruined. There I went again, cussing in my head, all because of this uncouth gangster before me.

“N-no, sir.”

Riccardo tsked. “I can’t tell the truth or a lie with you, boy. That’s truly unfortunate.” He grabbed the steak knife off the table with a gloved hand. “Open your mouth.”

“N-no, please, Don Caputo, I can do better. I swear,” Elio pleaded.

“I’m glad you know who I am, boy. I hope you know that I’m sparing your life. I’ve killed men for less.” Riccardo snapped his fingers, and the manager and two other men came out.

They held Elio down, and I lost my voice when Riccardo sawed away the server’s tongue. When he was finished, he tossed the appendage on the table between us. A sobbing woman came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron.

“Don Caputo,” she cried.

Riccardo straightened up, but didn’t respond.

“Please. You can’t leave him like this. The shame alone for our family. For our business.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about, because she tore off into Italian so rapidly. The manager spoke, and everyone was talking over one another, except for Riccardo. He remained silent through it all.

“Enough.” One word. That was all he said to quiet the entire restaurant. Even the kitchen had gone silent.

“Signore. Don Caputo,per favore.” The woman dropped down on her hands and knees, begging.

“Fine, but the boy’s father can do it. I wasn’t prepared to completely ruin my suit.” Riccardo ran a gloved hand down his lapel, fixing it.

The manager stepped forward. Was he Elio’s dad? He grabbed the knife from Riccardo and walked toward Elio. I sat still in my chair. I wanted to look away, but it was like a terrible car crash happening in slow motion in front of me.

His father, the manager, slashed the knife across his son’s throat, marking me across the face with his blood splatter.

I screamed in shock, unbelieving of what I’d just seen. Everyone ignored me, as the family profusely thanked him and apologized. My screaming cut off as soon as I had the power to stop.

The dining room cleared out, until it was just Riccardo and I, plus the dead body. Riccardo barked some Italian into his phone and hung up. His chest heaved, and I realized he’d been controlling his anger this whole time.

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