Page 87 of Scorned Obsession

“I did.”

At the disbelieving look on her face, I ground my molars together and debated what to tell her.

“And?” she clipped.

“No one was hurt. It happened right after the closing time. It’s just property damage, but just like the club, it might take weeks of repair.” I spoke in an even calm tone like it was just another day in Rossi land. “They do have Tommy.”

“Why didn’t you let me speak to Dom!” Bianca cried at the same time Gian asked, “And?”

“I kept it short,” I said. “All that matters is that no one was hurt. And Dom confirmed they have Tommy. He didn’t ask to talk to you.”

Bianca was having a hard time regulating her breathing. A flush pinkened her cheeks in a sure sign of her temper.

“I didn’t ask for details.” I kept Dom’s exchange condition to myself for now. “They considered a third-party was involved.”

“We were thinking the same thing,” Bianca said.

“You guys had a productive conversation while I was gone?” My mouth hitched at a corner.

“Are you finding this funny?” Bianca snapped.

“No, but it sure beats freaking out over it. The De Luccis are not going to harm Tommy beyond what’s accepted interrogation. Leaving a trail of bodies isn’t their MO.”

Mine wasn’t either. Yesterday was an exception.

“Well, maybe you could ask them about my poker game and our soldier in jail,” Gian asked.

I shot him an irritated glance. “We take care of our business with Toronto first.”

“And Tommy?” Bianca asked.

“He can hang on a bit.”

“But why?” The tone in her voice suggested she was fast losing patience, and it scored another welt on my conscience that I was keeping Dom’s bargaining chip from her.

But I didn’t have to worry because Gian answered for me. “Tommy was careless. Let him learn his lesson.”

Bianca glared at Gian and then at me. “I’m going to check on the frittata.”

“Looks like I’ll be accompanying you to see the Toronto Albanians, after all,” Gian said smugly.

I barely set foot in the kitchen when Bianca attacked me with, “Is he gone?”

“Gian? Yeah.”

“This fighting in front of other people is harder than I thought,” she fumed. “I don’t know how Mom put up with Dad when all I want to do is punch that smirk off your face.”

I snagged her around the waist and dragged her against me. “Thank you, baby. But you don’t have to hold back every single time.” I cocked a grin. “If you think I deserve it.” I looked past her. “That frittata looks good. Sure smells good.”

“Ugh.” She put her arms between us and squirmed out of my embrace. Her tits brushed against my abs and the softness made my dick jump.

I was fired up.

She was fired up.

Which reminded me about her attire, and I injected all seriousness on my face. “I don’t want you showing up in a robe in front of my men with barely anything underneath it. I would have stabbed Gian in the eye if he so much as leered at you.” He would have too, if we didn’t have this huge problem of Tommy missing, the Jabbin’ Java incident, and the Albanians. Not to mention my rift with Raffa.

“Are we seriously talking about your jealousy right now?” As if to stress how ridiculous she thought I was, she threw her hands on her hips.

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