Page 240 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Except me.

Matteo left me in charge here in Manhattan to run shit while he’s in Vegas. He gave me his trusted security team as backup, but I can’t delegate this kind of thing to just anyone.

Security, my ass.

If I can’t handle scumbags like Salvatore on my own, nobody will take me seriously, including my own brothers. They won’t see me as a leader. And they sure as hell won’t give me my own territory when the time comes.

People who delegate the hard shit don’t command respect. And if you’re trying to claw your way to the top of the food chain, delegating equates to weakness.

Weakness will get you eaten alive.

So I ignore Ray’s furious knocking and duck down and around Salvatore’s next punch. His fist pummels the sheetrock wall instead, leaving my nose and jaw still intact. He lets out a sharp groan, clutching his bloody fist. Spittle flies out of the corners of his mouth, his breaths morphing into angry pants.

I could kill him.

But I don’t.

I know there’s only one reason why he’s here tonight.

Revenge.

He figured I’d be an easy target since Matteo is away.

That I wouldn’t have enough backup to take him and his thug crew on.

He didn’t count on the fact that I am my own muscle and that my sole priority right now is making sure the kingdom we’ve built is strong enough to withstand assholes like Sallyboy and his gang of fucknuts.

I thought about putting a bullet between his eyes, but then I’d never find out why he’s really here.

It’s not because of Zoe’s pussy, that’s for damn sure.

Matteo has his fair share of enemies, and they’re always lurking, angling to find a crack in the foundation of our empire.

They will search tirelessly, but they’ll never find one.

And just to make sure Salvatore’s guys get the message, too, I think I need to show them that their searches will come up empty. That while this empire is in my hands, it won’t ever fucking crumble.

Salvatore fists his hand, wincing as he clenches his scratched knuckles.

“Looks like it hurts,” I say in a mocking voice. “Maybe you shoulda sent someone else in here, someone who can actually make contact with something other than the wall.”

That pisses him off and he launches a fist out at me again.

But when that big body of his loses balance, I yank the back of his collar, pulling him back toward me. I want to make sure he hears this next part before his ears go up in flames.

Literally.

I grab the jagged piece of the candle holder and fist his hair, singeing the bottom of his ear with the flickering wick. “You cross me again and I’ll make sure you’re incinerated, not just a little seared, do you understand me?”

He roars as he leaps toward me, shoving me into an end table. It tips over with me on top of it, hitting the nearby wall. A lamp crashes against the floor along with a tube of lube, a pair of handcuffs, and a flogger.

“Looks like you thought you were gonna have some fucking night before I showed up and blew up your plans, huh?” I smirk as I regain my footing, jumping off the table and inching toward him. I drop the candle, stepping on the wick with the heel of my shoe. “Haven’t had enough yet, have ya? You still want more, Sallyboy? Come and fucking get it!”

Another guttural yell pierces the air, and this time when he swings his fist out, I grab it, twisting it backward. Now he’s really crying like the bitch I always knew he was. “You feel that?” I hiss at him. “That’s how your wrist feels when it’s about to break.” I twist harder, my grip tight on his hand. “So unless you want me to take the next step and snap the goddamn thing off, why don’t you tell me why you’re here and who you’re working with?”

“Fuck you!” he yells.

“Oh, yeah?” I scream back.

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