Page 45 of His Dark Vendetta

I slung the gym bag over my shoulder and made for the door but stopped short. “Dani, when Jenny gets in, tell her I need to see her tonight.”

“You got it, boss,” she said.

The sun in a clear sky was a welcome reprieve from the dim lighting of The Dollhouse. It helped calm my nerves. I needed air after all that mess, and the brisk late-morning breeze filled my lungs and allowed me to breathe. Feeding would take care of the other half of the mess—the one inside my head.

I wasn’t the pinnacle of control when it came to women—far from it—and I almost crossed a dangerous line this morning with Siobhán. Hunger had fueled some of my lust, and the last thing I needed was to do something stupid because I hadn’t fed in a week. I needed to keep my eye on the prize—putting my vendetta to rest—and I couldn’t do that unless I had a clear head. Siobhán wasn’t at my house to feed from or to fuck. She was there for information, information I could use against her family for revenge. That’s all that mattered.

ChapterFifteen

Siobhán

“Istill can’t believe you drive a 1985 308 GTS,” I said.

Luca turned off the engine, and the roaring beast quieted. We climbed out, and the Ferrari-red paint blazed in the noontime sun. He parked diagonally across two spaces as far as possible from every other car in the lot, which meant we were tucked in a corner even though there were plenty of spaces up front.

“Granted, they were the most widely produced Ferraris, and the most accessible to mere mortals, but—” I ripped my eyes away from the sexiest car I’d ever seen to find Luca halfway across the parking lot. I hurried to catch up. “That car is almost forty years old, but it looks like you drove it off the lot yesterday. Not to mention the engine. Purrs like a kitten.”

He snorted. “How do you know so much about cars?”

“I already told you. Da’s a mechanic. Or was. I grew up around cars. And there’s never a shortage of expensive ones at a chop shop. Plus, there were always car magazines lying around. I got bored. It was something to do.” I grabbed his forearm. “Can I drive it?”

He looked at me in horror. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

He scoffed. “You’d probably strip the clutch.”

I folded my arms and arched an eyebrow. “Cause I’m a woman I don’t know how to drive stick?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I’m going to drive that car.”

He got in my face. “No, you’re not.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said through an evil smile and crossed the last stretch of parking lot.

The automatic doors of Starmarket swooshed open. Someone must have set the air conditioning to Penguin Enclosure, and that grocery-store-refrigeration smell turned my empty hangover stomach, but I didn’t care. I was just stoked to be out of the house.

Luca reached for a basket, and I snatched it from him and shoved it back on the stack. “We need a cart.”

He groaned.

“What? You have no food in your house, and you’ve given me zero information as to how long you plan on holding me hostage. I need to eat. And as much as I love vodka and olives, I can’t survive on martinis.”

“Fine,” he said and jerked a cart out of the corral.

I led us toward the bakery. “So where’d you get it? Auction?”

“No. It was my father’s. He bought it new a year or so before he died. He was obsessed with that car. ‘The pride of Italy, figlio mio. And Magnum drives one.’” He chuckled, and the rare display of genuine happiness when talking about his past made me smile. “After he died, Vito—you know who Vito is, right?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Marco’s consigliere?”

He frowned, and a hint of suspicion colored his displeasure.

“I’m not a rat, Luca. I’m just not stupid.”

“Right,” he said, but drew the word out. “Anyway, after he died, Vito locked everything up—the house, the car, the boat”—my head snapped up—“Yes, I own a boat, and no, we can’t go out on it.” I frowned. “Froze his assets. Set up a trust.”

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