Page 21 of Wicked Rivals

I grabbed her teacup, the wet tea bag clinging to the empty ceramic, and threw it against the wall. The cup shattered, shards ricocheting off the wall and bouncing onto the couch cushions.

Val jumped and grabbed the boy again, but I hardly noticed much more than that.

With my pulse roaring in my ears, my only option was to move and keep moving.

Otherwise, I didn’t think I could stop myself from ripping the place apart with my bare hands before wrapping them around her throat and squeezing with all the fury I’d kept bottled up for ten years.

Sure, I’d had my heart broken before and my world turned upside down. But I had never in my life felt the way I did in that moment, there with her.

My guts almost reached my throat. A cold sweat sent hot and cold shivers racing across my overheating back, where the previous comfort of my shirt beneath the tailored suit jacket was now a stifling prison, holding me inside the cage of a body I could no longer control.

So much energy coursed through me, so much fucking rage and shame and regret. I could have sworn I saw goddamn red.

If I didn’t move my body, it would move itself for me in all the ways I’d never allowed before.

The monster would break free, not in the cellar where he did his best work, but there… in Brooklyn… in the open.

In front of my son.

Pushing my hands through my hair, I paced by the window, forcing my breath to slow and my mind to recognize the rhythm of my clicking footsteps.

Control was all I had.

If I lost it, what the fuck did I have left?

After more pacing, I turned to the boy.

The first question that came to my mind, which seemed most important in the moment, was to ask him for his date of birth. As if such a simple answer would settle the situation between the three of us.

I opened my mouth to do just that.

A loud pop erupted somewhere on the street behind me, and a split second later, the window shattered.

I leaped at the boy, then threw us both over the couch.

Pain seared through my arm.

And more bullets railed through Con Amore.

CHAPTER 5

VAL

Stefano paced around the room like a caged lion waiting for his moment to pounce, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him as he walked back and forth in front of the couch.

He was no longer the same man I had known and loved ten years earlier, and not the man I believed he had probably become before the truth caught up to me.

No, the man now inside my café appeared to be even more dangerous than I could have imagined… and so full of rage. He’d completely transformed from being my Stefano Salvatore into Stefano Vignali, the ruthless mafia boss.

Though I knew it couldn’t be the case, he seemed taller.

And he was more put together. Gone were the jeans and sweaters he’d always worn, now replaced with an expensive three-piece suit, black on black, tailored perfectly to fit his tall frame, narrow waist, and broad shoulders.

The bitter taste of regret filled my mouth.

I hated to admit even to myself, but Stefano had become exactly the type of man I wanted.

Powerful, dangerous, someone who made me feel safe.

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