Page 23 of Risky Vows

"I need to talk to Ugo," I say, walking past her without fanfare.

"Oh, of course. He's in the kitchen. I'll call him," she says behind me, following me as I march through the front hall.

"No need." I wave her off. "I'll find him."

I hear a confused “okay” behind me. I'm sure she's seen worse things than a new family member barging in and rushing through the foyer in the morning. But I have the element of surprise on my side. Not that I need it.

Cold anger surges through me like a wave, the current growing stronger with each step I take. It's not the hot type of anger where I'll shoot him and leave. This bastard broke her ribs. I want to make him suffer.

"Massimo! You're here," her mom says, a nervous look on her face. "I didn't expect you. Is everything okay? Is Amara with you?"

"No, I'm handling some business. Anywhere in the house I can talk privately to your head of security?"

"Oh, sure," she says, fumbling about. "The second door to your left. I mean, the third," she corrects, following me. "The third!"

"Sure."

I pass by the kitchen and nod at Ugo, the motherfucker, who's talking closely to another security person. "Ugo, come with me."

"Yes, sir," he says, following me into the room and closing the door behind us.

I'm sure he assumes I'm here to brief him or talk to him about a job I want done. Amara’s mom told me that Ugo would help me with whatever I needed once we started working together.

I scan the guest room decorated in impersonal pastel colors, a bed at the end, and a few pieces of furniture. A family picture with a much younger Amara hangs on one wall. I move closer. I can tell someone told her to smile, but deep down, she was unhappy.

Seeing her only stokes the fire brewing inside me.

"How can I help, sir?" Ugo asks. "I thought it'd be a couple of weeks until you took over. But I'm here to help."

"Good.I'mhere," I start, removing the knife from my pocket, "to talk about how you beat up my wife." I've only used this handmade steel beauty a couple of times since I bought it sixmonths ago. Using an exceptional blade on this scum of the earth feels like a sacrilege. Then I remember how sharp it is and how much pain it'll inflict on him.

The color drains from his face, and he eyes the closed door. "Excuse me, sir?"

I lift my chin. "Don't play dumb, asshole."

"I apologize, sir. That was so long ago… I'll talk to her."

I’ll talk to her.Is that the best he can do? I pace in a small circle, my eyes never leaving his. "No, I don't think you will. I don't think you'll talk to anyone anymore," I say, determination in every syllable, my voice calm and controlled.

Ugo moves to the closed door, but I'm faster and launch toward him, dropping him to the floor. He tries to remove the knife and neutralize me. He reaches for my arm, but I'm faster and swipe the side of his stomach.

Ugo groans and punches me in the gut. Shit. Gotta give it to him, it was a good one, a snappy twinge of pain spreading through me. But I'm stronger. And bigger.

I clock him in his face once, enjoying the sound of my fist on his cheek. I attempt to do it again, but this time, he blocks me, and we fight for dominance, rolling on the floor as I still hold the knife in my right hand. Adrenaline throbs in my veins. My heart pounds in my chest.

He kicks me in the groin, and the pain increases tenfold. I strike back, and this time, I insert the knife well into his stomach and twist it.

I'm on top of him, watching redness take over his face, sweat covering his skin. Blood seeps through his shirt. He’s disoriented and pissed.

"What the fuck? I- I was just doing my job," he says.

I rear back, catching my breath. "You broke her ribs, motherfucker."

"She wouldn't stop fighting," he says, panting.

Neither will I.I grasp the knife. He tries to punch me, but he’s lost too much blood and isn’t strong enough. Pretty soon, he'll be defenseless. Good.

Ugo lets out a guttural sound of pain that reverberates through the room. He tries to stand, his face twisting in agony.

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