Page 19 of Savage Enemy

Nothing surprising there. My family often chose to ignore the rules established by the founding families.

“Seems my daughter failed to mention she’s already been purchased. Hell, after all this, Klimov might just refuse her when he finally sees her. If he does, maybe I’ll let you buy her. For now, boy, just be grateful I’m letting your bastard live.”

Every time my father called my son a bastard, my blood boiled hotter, and the way I hated him grew stronger. I would dance on this man’s fucking grave someday soon.

“She’s mine,” Stefano snarled.

My father pushed me down another step.

“No, Vignali, she’s not.”

My foot slipped as we got close to the bottom step, and Saul Moscatelli, my father, so easily let go of me to save himself.

Stefano caught me.

I looked up at him, hoping to see the love he’d shown me earlier. Hoping he understood why I’d done it all.

Understood what I had to do now.

But that’s not what I found in those dark eyes.

The cruelty in his stare made my breath stop.

“What the fuck have you done?” he demanded.

CHAPTER 4

VAL

Stefano steadied me, then he let me go—same as my father had done—and I couldn’t help but hate him for it.

At the same time, I couldn’t help mourning the loss of his touch and wanting more.

His eyes grew darker, his expression so full of fury.

My lies had hurt our son.

My lies had caused death under his roof.

One of Stefano’s men lay dead in the foyer.

His underboss, Tony, sat slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall, his shirt soaked with blood, his face twisted in pain as he gripped his side to slow the bleeding.

Within minutes of my family’s arrival, Stefano had learned my worst truths. Truths that cost him the life of a made man and the good health of his underboss.

Aside from Enzo, the Vignali men were the closest thing to family Stefano had, and I’d hurt them.

Even Enzowouldn’t walk away unscathed.

“Please don’t hate me,” I whispered.

Stefano just stared at me.

He deserved an explanation, the whole truth, but I didn’t have the time to give him what he needed.

He deserved more than answers. He deserved an apology.

I had judged him for his family when mine was worse. I let him believe he was the only reason I couldn’t be with him—and when he came back for us, that he was the only reason I’d kept Enzo’s birth a secret.

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