Page 11 of Savage Union
"Precisely." He returns to his seat, adjusting his cuffs. "Finish your dinner."
I want to refuse out of spite, but hunger wins. We complete the meal in tense silence.
As Antonia clears the plates, Vito watches me with that unnerving intensity. "Tomorrow, someone will be staying with you while I attend to business."
"A babysitter?"
"A guard."
"Afraid I'll escape?"
"Determined to ensure you don't try." He rises, buttoning his jacket. "His name is Dante Mancini. He works for me."
"Another minion. Great."
Vito's expression hardens. "Dante isn't someone to antagonize, bambola. He doesn't share my patience."
"Your patience?" I laugh bitterly. "Is that what you call it?"
He moves with that predatory grace until he stands before me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "You have no idea how patient I'm being."
The threat hangs in the air between us. I refuse to look away first.
Finally, he steps back. "Eight hours of my day wasted on an emergency meeting for the business. The Commission is pushing the timeline forward."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we're getting married in three weeks instead of four." He delivers this like he's discussing the weather. "Goodnight, Caterina."
He walks toward the elevator, leaving me speechless for once.
I don't see Vito the next morning. Instead, I emerge from my room on the second floor and make my way down to the main level to find a stranger lounging on the sofa, feet propped on Vito's immaculate coffee table. He's younger than Vito, maybe late twenties, with dark hair cut short on the sides but longer on top. Black tattoos snake up both forearms, disappearing under the sleeves of his fitted black t-shirt. Unlike Vito's sophisticated menace, this man exudes raw danger.
"Morning, princess." His voice is rough, with a hint of Brooklyn. "Sleep well in your tower?"
I cross my arms. "Who are you?"
"Dante Mancini." He doesn't stand or offer his hand. "Your new best friend."
"I doubt that."
His lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm just as thrilled as you are."
I move toward the kitchen, hyperaware of his gaze following me. "Where's Vito?"
"Don Vito," he corrects sharply. "Show some respect."
I turn, leaning against the counter. "Or what?"
Dante laughs, the sound unexpectedly genuine. "Damn, you've got fire. Now I get it."
"Get what?"
"Why the boss is so..." He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "Invested."
I scoff, opening the refrigerator to hide my face. "He's not invested in me. He's invested in whatever power play this forced marriage represents."
"Keep telling yourself that." I hear him stand, his footsteps approaching. "But the boss doesn't do anything halfway."
