Page 98 of Declan

I nod to Connor before stepping onto the black bike. If we need to leave in a hurry, I want the fastest way to get to her. The night outside is pitch black. There is no moon, no stars, just oppressive darkness.

We reach Giovanni’s mansion, and a lone guard at the entrance waves us in with a curt nod. I smirk. This is too easy. I glance at Kian, and he nods.

The Morelli mansion is imposing. It is a classic Italian-style estate with whitewashed walls and grey brick accents. Its entrance boasts massive columns. However, the maintenance has gone downhill.

The gardens have been overgrown, and the wall has more cracks than it should.

This means the Koslovs aren’t paying much for Giovanni’s loyalty. I shake my head—Giovanni is the dumbest shit when it comes to negotiating, even with me. He gave me his daughter and his side of the docks in exchange for security and a name.

“Dec.” Kian grabs my attention. I remove my helmet and shake my head, my hair falling into place. Giovanni and Silvana are waiting. One glance at her is all it takes to know their intentions.

“Declan, Kian, good to see you,” Giovanni says, extending his hand. We shake it, and then his arm snakes around Silvana’s waist, pulling her closer. “You remember my daughter, Silvana.” His mouth curls into a devilish smile. I lean in, giving two kisses on her cheeks. She blushes.

As dinner is served on the massive wooden table draped in white linen, I take in the dining room. The white walls are adorned with large framed paintings of Italian landscapes, a picture of his daughters from when they were younger, and, of course, a huge dark oak frame with a painting of Giovanni standing next to a black stallion.

I smirk. Predictable.

How the fuck Viviana came from this bastard’s balls is beyond me.

There are fewer guards than I remember. Ours aren’t here, which is interesting. It’s part of the contract we made, yet they’re nowhere to be found. Kian and I exchange a knowing look. No words are needed. We know.

We eat as Giovanni yaps about money, business, and even the Russians. Silvana avoids my gaze at all costs. I remember that lunch. I know she’s the one who gave them the green light to go after my wife, and if shit hits the fan tonight, she can be damn sure I’m using her as a fucking shield.

The meal ends, and the server brings glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Kian picks it up and pours.

“So, Viviana giving you a hard time?” Giovanni asks as Silvana excuses herself.

I stand as she leaves. “She is,” I grunt through gritted teeth.

“Silvana told me about the incident at the restaurant, how you saved her and Viviana,” he says. He’s not asking; he’s probing, trying to catch me off guard.

“I did. Imagine having her killed that soon after the wedding,” I reply, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. “I do have a reputation to keep, even if Viviana is a menace.”

He chuckles, nodding in agreement.

“Maybe you should get to know Silvana better. Who knows what might happen?” he says, looking at me over his glass. There’s a fire in his eyes—not like the fire in my wife’s eyes, but one full of deflection.

“Maybe I should. She is definitely gorgeous.” I’m not lying—she is. She looks a lot like Elva, and Giovanni knows that. But what attracted me to Elva wasn’t her looks. It was her fire, her strength.

Ding.

I pull my phone from my suit jacket pocket.

Connor:

Cameras out. Three guards are missing.

A chill runs down my spine. I knew it, but I remain calm, exchanging a glance with Kian, who keeps swirling his drink.

Giovanni can’t contain his grin. “Problem?” he asks.

I let out a chuckle before standing up. My hand travels to my back, pulling out my gun and pointing it directly at his head. He calls for his men, but no one shows up.

“No one is coming, Giovanni. Not even the Russian guards you had back there,” I say, tilting my head toward the kitchen. My men start appearing from the hallway and the kitchen door, each dragging one of Giovanni’s men and making them kneel in front of us.

I nod, and they fire, killing the men instantly. Another guard appears, dragging Silvana, who is screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Where is Bruna?” I ask. Giovanni doesn’t answer, so I shoot him in the shoulder. He drops to his knees, groaning in pain as blood drips down his arm. Silvana screams.

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