Page 68 of Scorned Obsession

As they turned to leave, Sandro went for his gun. I grabbed his arm.

Griselda saw what was about to happen and gasped. That was when Gian started to turn, but I’d already stepped in front of Sandro.

Gian smirked. “Oh, look at that, your little wife trying to protect you.”

“Come on, Gian.” Griselda grabbed his arm. “Let’s take Uncle home.”

As the three left, we heard Raffa mumbling about being too old for this shit.

Tommy slammed the door before turning back to Sandro. “What the fuck, man?”

Sandro gave me a flat stare. “Go to bed, Bianca.” He turned to Tommy. “Office.”

Sticks and I were left in the foyer.

“You don’t believe my family would burn down the club, right?” I asked.

Sticks sighed. “Not a hundred percent, no. And Sandro feels the same. But like he said, it would be a fair retaliation.”

“This is so fucked up. We need to do something. Get word?—”

“Oh, hell no.” Sticks gave an incredulous laugh. “Don’t turn those big doe eyes on me. I like my head where it is.”

“But if we don’t?—”

He yanked open the door. “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. I need some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

Sandro

When we entered the study, I headed straight for the scotch. I took two glasses. Poured one for Tommy and another one for me. Then I threw myself behind the desk. Tommy stood in front of me, tossing back his scotch. He grabbed the bottle in front of me and poured himself another one.

“Easy on that.”

“Easy on—” he sputtered. “Tell that to yourself, Sandro. What the fuck was that out there? Were you really going to shoot Uncle Raffa?”

“I’d probably nick his ear.” Though putting a bullet through his head would take care of most of our problems.

“Look, I get that you’re protective of Bianca, but do you think shooting an old man, a blind one at that, is going to endear you to her? You’re only putting a target on her back, showing everyone how little it’d take to push you over the edge.”

“What’s the matter, Tommy? Afraid you would have to step up as boss sooner?”

“Fuck you, Sandro. Is that what you’re doing? Forcing Raffa’s hand to replace you as boss? It wouldn’t be me at this point, you know. It’d be Gian.”

“I don’t think you deserve the position as much as Gian,” I replied.

“What? Because I think the De Luccis set fire to the club? It’s a logical explanation.”

“You’re letting your emotions rule your judgment.”

“And you’re not?”

“Mine will not start a bloody war. And as much as the thought of killing a blind old man sounds unsavory, let’s not forget this is the same man who has slaughtered men and their families. Who doesn’t care about collateral damage. His blindness came at that price, but it still doesn’t absolve him of the many innocent lives he’s taken.”

“And you, Sandro?”

“I have a code. I only take jobs to kill men with criminally black hearts.” Or rapists.

“So how are we going to launder the money coming in without a club?” Tommy instantly changed the subject because we’d had this discussion before. My assassin’s code. It helped that my first kill was a big one. I’d been able to dictate my limits. No women or children, even as collateral damage. All because I wanted to look Bianca in the eye and not flinch.

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