Page 259 of Merciless Desires

My papà passed me the brass knuckles that were already bloodied and spoke to me in Italian. “Take a guess who his boss is?”

“Where was he found?”

That question made my papà pause and inhale slowly. “In my driveway.”

“We’ll pass your bride around. We’ll all get the chance to fuck her before we tear her apart and deliver the pieces to you,” the man said.

My papà gave me a look that said don’t fucking react.

So, I ignored him. “When was he found?”

“An hour before I called you. He’s not looking to hurt me, only you. You are the one with the weakness.”

“He won’t hurt me by threatening her life.”

“Are you sure about that?” My papà stepped away and blotted his cigarette out on the man’s forehead. “Why don’t you ask him what he told me?”

My black leather shoes clicked against the concrete as I strode toward the bound Russian. I shrugged out of my suit jacket, tossed it aside, and began rolling up my sleeves.

“What brings you here, brutto pezzo di merda?”

He laughed in response and attempted to spit bloody saliva on me, but I sidestepped it, which only made him snarl and curse at me in Russian.

“I’m going to slice her pretty tits off.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“You will not fool me. The Moretti girl will die, and you will wear her blood.”

I didn’t react. I wasn’t a fucking moron, and a bit of pussy wasn’t going to change that. Perfect pussy, no less, but I wasn’t falling for her, so she wasn’t my weakness.

“You kill her, I’ll just find another,” I offered with a shrug.

The Russian tilted his head. “You lie.”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“You will watch as we drain her of her blood.”

I shook my head. “Not interested. How did you get onto the property?”

He cursed at me in Russian, and I rewarded him with a brass knuckle-spiked right hook that split more of his already-sliced cheek. Then another, and another.

I repeated my question, and this time all I received in response was silence. He was limp in the chair, head hung low, but I knew he was still conscious. He wasn’t that weak. Dominov wouldn’t have hired someone who couldn’t handle being beaten until they were an inch from death.

Grabbing his black hair at his forehead, I forced him to look at me. “How did you get onto the property?”

“I walked,” the Russian replied smartly and sneered at me. “Your fortress is weak, and your kingdom will crumble. We will have what we want. We will take everything from you…starting with her.”

That was enough.

I wasn’t going to let him know that his words had an effect on me, but I was sick of hearing his fucking voice. My grip on his hair tightened to keep my target steady, and my brass knuckles connected with his face over and over, blood splattering across every single surface, but mostly me.

“Figlio! Smettila!” Papà yelled.

I felt his hand on my elbow, but I shook him off. I wasn’t finished.

I wasn’t stopping until the fucker begged me to stop.

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