Page 57 of My Mafia King

I grab Anthony’s hair and turn his face to her.

“Apologize to her first.”

He looks at me, sincerely baffled.

“For what?”

“Oh.Vaffanculo––fuck you.You can’t be that stupid. Are you that stupid? Huh? Are you?” I shoot at him, slapping his head.

“I could apologize, but do you think she’ll understand? She’s only a kid. I’ve always had to dumb down my conversation so I can talk to her.”

Carmina’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“What? How can you say that, you fucking jerk?” she lashes at him, earning chuckles from everyone in the room except me. “You had to dumb down your conversation?? How about me? I had to listen to your nonsense the entire summer. Fucking jerk.”

She’s so damn cute when she’s angry, but I need to focus on the man in front of me who is about to say something else.

My hand goes up fast, and he turns to stone.

“So you’re saying she’s good for fucking, yet she’s too stupid to hold a conversation…?” I toss at him, getting to a point with him where him getting out of here alive is highly unlikely.

And then a sharp voice tears into the silence.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Carmina says, leaping out of her seat, her eyes shooting flames, her lips trembling, her hands balled up.

Before I can do anything to stop her, she lunges at Anthony, and I bet the fucker hasn’t counted on her doing that.

A shower of fists falls over his face, and expletives shoot from her lips while he laughs like an idiot.

My jacket slides to the floor as she sinks her fists into his face.

I loop my arm around her waist and pull her back into my chest while she kicks him with her legs, oblivious to anything around her.

These vile emotions must’ve been bottled up for some time.

Her fury is so visceral and raw her chest heaves and her skin burns, and I have to turn her around and lock her in my arms to make her stop.

Shame glints in her eyes before she presses her brow against my chest and begins sobbing, which is a whole lot of things wrapped into one.

Maybe she’s upset with her stalker, her family situation, or the lack of money.

Whatever it is, I press my hand on the back of her head and shush her quietly.

By now, Vito has the man out of the chair and his gun connected to his head again.

Regardless of how I’d like this evening to play out, we constantly get to the point where his life hangs by a thread.

Him staying alive is seemingly not in the cards.

With my hand splayed over the back of her hair, I wait for her to quiet down.

Within seconds, she straightens her back and tears away from me, her gaze tilted down.

I lift her chin and look into her eyes.

Her sadness is bigger than the Hayford Peak, her tears looking like diamonds on her face.

I run my thumbs under her eyes and brush her hair away, revealing her face.

---