Page 70 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

When the doors slide open, we emerge into thehallway and access the concealed entrance to the basement. As we make ourdescent the scent of damp concrete, sweat, and old blood fills my nostrils. Atthe bottom of the stairs, the room is dimly lit, a single bulb flickering abovetheuomodimerdashackled to the chair in the center. Vito and Andre flank him, their facesexpressionless, the unwavering stance of men who have done this a hundred timesbefore. The bastard’s head is slumped forward, his breathing heavy and uneven.A trickle of sweat drips down his temple, his torn shirt clinging to his chestlike a second skin.

I step forward, slow and deliberate, the echoof my shoes against the concrete like the gunshots he was so happy to rain downupon us today.

“You were sloppy,” I say, my voice calm,almost conversational. “Taking a shot at us in broad daylight? Missing?” Ishake my head in disappointment. “It’s almost insulting.”

The man lifts his head just enough to glare atme through swollen eyes. I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t make him anyless of a threat. Blood crusts along his temple, his split lip barely able toform a sneer. “Va' fanculo.”

Fuck me?Me? This piece of shit has more than a death wish. He’s begging forpain.

Antonio exhales sharply, a dark chuckleslipping from his lips. “You first.”

I crouch before the man, resting my arms on myknees, watching him with the patience of a priest before a sinner. “Tell me whosent you.”

Silence. His jaw tightens.

Vito shifts behind him, but I hold up a hand. “Youknow how this goes. You talk, maybe I let you walk out of here with most ofyour fingers. You don’t…” I glance at Antonio, whose grip tightens on theknife. “Well, let’s just say my brother is very creative.”

The man spits at my feet. “I’m not telling youshit.”

Antonio doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward,grabbing the man’s hand, and drives the knife straight through his palm,pinning it to the wooden arm of the chair. A strangled scream rips from histhroat, his body jerking against the restraints. His back arches, musclesstraining against the unbearable agony.

“Not the answer we were looking for,” Antoniomurmurs, twisting the blade just enough to make the bastard’s agony double.“But maybe this will help you think.” His voice is almost soothing like afather patiently scolding a disobedient child.

I stand, rolling my shoulders, tugging at myshirt cuffs, letting the moment stretch. The slow burn of anticipation coils inmy gut. “Let’s try again.”

His breathing is ragged now, his foreheadslick with sweat. He groans, eyes squeezing shut against the pain. When hefinally speaks, his voice is a hoarse rasp. “Enzo… It was Enzo.”

Antonio and I exchange a glance. My stomachtightens.

“EnzoLambretti?” Iask, though I already know the answer.

He nods, biting down on another pained cry. “Hesent us to kill the girl… take you all out.” He sucks in a sharp breath.

Antonio growls, twisting the knife deeper. Theman howls in agony, thrashing in the chair, his free hand curling into auseless fist.

I step back, exhaling slowly, letting the ragesimmer just beneath my skin. “That’s all I needed.”

The man sags against the restraints, his bodytrembling. Relief flickers across his face for a fleeting second before helooks at Antonio's emotionless mask and realizes his mistake.

I turn on my heel, cold with the ease at whichthecoglioneEnzo sent to kill Aemelia could havesucceeded in ending her life, or ours, and pause. No one takes what is mine.When I speak, my voice is smooth and cold. “Finish him.”

Antonio nods, wicked and deadly, as he pullsanother blade from his pocket. The last thing I hear as I step into the hallwayis the sound of another scream, then silence.

EnzoLambrettijustmade his last mistake.

***

By the time I return to the penthouse, thetension in my shoulders is on the brink of snapping. Alexis is the first thingI see as I enter the living room. He’s leaning against the counter, armscrossed, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. His shirt ishalf-buttoned, his hair still damp from a shower, and there's something smugabout the way he lifts his chin at me.

“You look like shit,” he says, pushing off thewall.

I ignore his attempt at humor and glancetoward Aemelia’s door. “She okay?”

He nods, expression softening just slightly. “She’sfine. Shaken but fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Good. The last thing we need is for her tobreak. “Enzo’s behind the shooting.”

Alexis lets out a low whistle, dragging a handthrough his hair. “FuckingLambrettiscum. Mariowasn’t enough for them?”

---