Page 40 of Thorns of Death
Brazilian cartel princess. Santo cazzo.Madre di Cristo.
“She’s the niece of the Brazilian cartel boss.” That piece of information was disturbing. “Kian Cortes’s niece.” Manuel was pointing out the obvious. I didn’t need that shit right now. “If we are able to connect the dots,nipote, others will too. The moment they learn of her, they’ll come for her.”
“They’ll get her over my dead body.” I had a taste of her, and I’d be damned if I let anyone take her away from me. Especially not some oppressive head of a cartel. That fucker would destroy someone as soft and beautiful as Isla. There was a reason Kian Cortes kept away from his brother.
Isla wasn’t just beautiful. She was warm, funny, and so full of life. I found her, and I would keep her. She was mine. She was mine to ruin. Mine to put back together.
“I want eyes on her at all times,” I said, my gaze still on the skyline. But it wasn’t the city I was seeing now. It was the ginger-haired woman naked, lying on her bed, her wild mane cascading down her back as she watched me take the call that led me here.
Jesus, who else knew? Konstantin had to know. There was no way he was ignorant of that fact. It was a miracle he’d been able to keep it hidden from his sister, from the world.
“Is she that important to you?” Manuel questioned. I could feel his inquisitive eyes on me, trying to decipher my motivations.
“I have a plan,” I announced, ignoring his question.
“I have a feeling I’ll need another drink to stomach this plan,” Manuel muttered as he reached for the drink he just made me, throwing himself back into a chair. “Let’s hear it.”
My eyes traveled to the large window that displayed the magnificent view of the Paris skyline. I could glimpse the bell towers of the Notre-Dame Cathedral from my window, and the river Seine flowing seamlessly downstream as it had for hundreds of years. It was one of the most romantic cities in the world, but I’d dare say, it had nothing on my country.
Even better was that I could protect Isla in my country. Here, she was up for grabs.
I turned my head and met Manuel’s eyes. “I’m going to marry her.”I’m going to make her my wife. My partner. The mother of my future children. My everything.
Surprise flickered in his gaze. “Just like that?”
I nodded. “I am. I was going to take her as my mistress, but this is better.”
After all, I fucked her without a condom, and I never do that. No matter how much a woman swore up and down she was on the pill, I always sheathed, but for some stupid reason, I didn’t earlier. And God, when I felt her warm pussy strangling my dick with nothing separating us, I swore I had gone to heaven.
“And Donatella?” he questioned, frowning.
We locked eyes, his as dark as mine. It was the Marchetti signature coloring. Dark hair and even darker eyes. Tanned skin.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You should let me do it,” he grumbled.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll do it. It’s about time she paid for the shit she’s caused. I also learned she has been following Isla around.” He stiffened, apprehension entering his features. We both knew that was not good. Donatella was a crazy bitch willing to murder her own sons, never mind a stranger.
“How in the fuck did she get out of that place?” he said, echoing my thoughts. “I just locked her up in there. There has to be someone helping her.”
“It won’t matter soon. The moment I find her, I’ll wring her neck.”
“About time,” he muttered. “Will you talk to the boys?”
“Yes.” My jaw clenched. The sad part was that Enzo and Amadeo had no connection to their mother. We’d tried to build it—it was the reason I’d kept her alive, after all—but she couldn’t be trusted to be left alone with them.
I should have known if she was willing to end her unborn child, it’d only get worse the older they got. The memory yanked me back, pulling me under.
Fourteen Years Ago…
The bitter taste bloomed in my mouth. My brother was buried six feet under. An empty casket full of dirt, because there was nothing left of his body but ash and dust.
I walked into my home and toward the stairs, my feet heavy as lead. I felt like I was slowly drowning and the shitshow had barely started.
“Stai bene?” Manuel’s hand was on my shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “We had to do this.”
I nodded. It didn’t make me feel any better. It felt like we’d both aged a few years since my brother died in my arms.
