Wynter stood up, Sasha lingering behind her like a dark shadow.
“Basilio, you know none of us can kill him,” Uncle Franco rasped, rubbing the back of his head. A large bump told me Father must have hit him from the back. Backstabbing bastard.
“I can kill him,” Wynter said firmly, but we all shook our heads.
“You are Basilio’s wife now. You kill him, it’s on your husband,” Uncle explained.
Wynter’s mother swallowed. “I could try.”
But all of us immediately shook our heads. That woman was not a killer.
“I will,” Sasha chimed in. “I have no connections to the fucker and I’ve been denied that pleasure for nine months now. The longest I had to hold off on a kill. It’s worse than blue balls.”
Wynter shot him a sideways glance and shook her head.
“Nobody wants to hear about your blue balls, Sasha,” she snickered and it was right there and then, I knew. My wife never slept with Sasha Nikolaev. Then her eyes came back to me, soft and shimmering.
“I’ll owe you big time,” I told Sasha, my eyes never wavering from her. I hoped she’d forgive me. One day.
Because no matter what, I couldn’t let her go. It’d take a better man than me.
* * *
I shut the library door behind me, then locked it. There would be no need for witnesses and I definitely didn’t want interruptions for this.
The library was on the opposite side of the manor, but the voices of the guests could still be heard.
“We have to talk,” I rasped, cupping her face. Her one cheek was red from where my father hit her. The anger boiled so hot inside me, I had to choke it down.
“Yeah, I think so,” she agreed.
“Tell me why you left.” Ineededher to tell me the whole goddamn story.
A slow shuddering breath left her, a hint of panic in that green gaze that fascinated me.
“I-I waited for you,” she admitted. “Then your father showed up and-”
Her voice faltered and the pain in her expression hit me right in the chest.
The sound of music played in the distance, vibrating softly against the windows and reflecting the anguish in my wife’s face and my chest. It was like a stab and twist to the chest.
“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” I whispered, knowing exactly what my father did to women. I’ve witnessed it plenty of times. “We’ll get through it together,” I promised. “And I’ll make him pay.”
My chest burned, the need to make my father paynowlike flames that readied to set into a full blown wildfire.
“He showed up,” she whispered softly. “He said you two planned for it. That you left me there knowing he was coming. You only wanted the connection to the Russians.” I stilled, holding my rage back. It burned through my chest like acid and I had to take a moment to swallow it down. “He tried to-” She swallowed hard, the gulp loud between us. “He tried to rape me, but he didn’t succeed. I escaped and Sasha found me.”
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she averted her gaze, looking somewhere behind me. I was glad she avoided looking at me, because she’d have seen the crazy monster that her words unleashed. That demanded retribution. The monster inside me rattled the bars of its cage, demanding to set him free so I could avenge my woman.
My wife.
“He will pay.” My voice sounded distorted by the rage buzzing in my ears. “For what he did to you and your mother. And many others.”
* * *
We were in the Nikolaev specially designed basement for torture. Let’s just say Sasha Nikolaev was a crazy motherfucker, but I was seriously considering redecorating my own torture room.
I smashed my fist into his face. “You touched my wife,” I growled.