Page 5 of Sins of the Son

I unbuttoned the first three buttons, drew the shirt over my head, and tossed it aside.

Milana extended her arm and pointed her finger at me. “Stop that! Stop right now.”

I kicked off my shoes and reached for my belt buckle.

Milana swept up a pair of discarded high heels from the seat of a nearby chair and threw them at me. They missed their mark.

We circled around one another.

She tossed her head from side to side, looking for another missile to launch at me.

The blood pumped in my veins with heated excitement. Damn, this woman was never boring.

With what could only be described as devilish glee, she laughed as she picked up the open bottle of wine. She held it high.

I straightened my shoulders. My voice was low and stern. “Don’t even think about it.”

She angled her arm back.

“I’m warning you, Milana. Put that bottle down.”

“Are you going to leave?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No.”

We stood there, facing off against one another, a clash of wills. Her arm trembled slightly. For the barest of seconds, I actually thought she was going to obey me.

Then the wine bottle sailed past my head, barely missing bashing my skull in.

It smashed against the white plaster wall. The green glass bottle shattered, splattering fiery ruby liquid all over the wall and down onto the floor.

After looking over my shoulder, I turned back to look at Milana.

Her face was frozen in shock, as if she were just now learning how glass bottles worked.

Her wide gaze then locked with mine. “Uh oh.”

I whipped my belt out from its loops and folded it in my hand. “You're damn right, uh oh, babygirl.”

She raced for the front door.

I beat her to it, flattening my palm against it so it wouldn’t open when she yanked on the handle.

Abruptly she switched course and took off down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

I was right on her heels.

She crossed the threshold of one of the bedrooms and slammed the door in my face. I tried the doorknob. Locked.

“Open the damn door.”

“Vai all'inferno!”

Leaning back, I shoved my shoulder against the door, splintering the frame and breaking the lock.

Milana scurried to the other side of the bedroom. “This isn’t funny anymore, Cesare.”

I took two steps toward her. “I’m not laughing.”

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