Page 114 of Craving Danger

Chapter 37

Franco

Taking the stairs down to the foyer, I head into the living room, where I find Milo playing a game on his phone.

“Samantha is in the main bedroom. No one but you can go up to the third floor,” I order.

“Got it.”

“If she needs something, she’ll message me, and I’ll let you know. Just leave it outside the bedroom door and knock so she knows it’s there.”

Milo nods, then asks, “Are you going to deal with the doctor?”

“Yes. Marcello will be with me.”

He gets up and goes to sit on a different couch that gives him a view of the stairs.

I leave the living room through the sliding doors, and finding Marcello sitting on a chair out on the veranda, I say, “Let’s go.”

He darts up and falls in beside me as we head toward the guesthouse. As soon as I walk inside, my men straighten up.

Taking the steps down to the bulletproof door, I place my hand over the biometric scanner. The heavy door unlocks, and Marcello pushes it open.

Stepping into my armory, I stalk past the cabinets holding all my weapons and into the room I reserve for torturing whoever dares cross me.

Santo glances up, and seeing me, he climbs to his feet from where he was sitting while guarding the fucker.

My eyes lock on Todd, where my men strung him up in chains hanging from the roof.

I take in the fucker, from his gray hair to the loafers on his feet.

The rage I suppressed so I could focus on Samantha fills every corner of me until it’s all I feel.

I’m glad to see he’s conscious. I’d hate to have to wait for him to wake up.

“What do you want?” the fucker asks.

His gaze darts between Marcello and me before it lands on the gun in my hand.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you,” I mutter, then I hand the gun to Marcello.

“Santo, strip him down to his underwear,” I order.

“Why am I here? Who are you?” he makes more demands.

I walk to the seat Santo vacated and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly.

My tone is low and deadly as I say, “I’m Franco Vitale.”

Todd struggles against the restraints as Santo undresses him.

His eyes keep darting between Marcello, Santo, and me, then he mutters, “I don’t know who you are.”

I let out a sigh, then say, “Yeah, but I bet you’ve heard of the Cosa Nostra.”

Slowly, the color drains from his face. “I only know what I’ve seen on the news. I’ve never been involved with them.”

“I know.” I cross my legs, resting my ankle on my knee. “I’m one of the five heads of the Cosa Nostra.”

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