Page 96 of Savage Enemy

Or maybe it did, and all the violence had scrambled my brain enough to make me question my own thoughts.

He shook his head and kept cleaning my face.

“Don’t get excited. It’s not as progressive as you think. It actually makes it worse for you.”

“I don’t see how,” I mumbled.

“Well, he told the Russians any time they take a virgin bride, they gamble with the quality of produced offspring. But you’ve proven you can bear strong, intelligent sons.

“Then he told them, and I quote, ‘Her son, at the mere age of nine, has already shown far more promise than his father.’ He managed to convince them if they give you a chance to bear heirs, they’d be stronger for it. Because of you.”

I didn’t even know what to say to that.

“Honestly, sorellina, I can’t believe they bought the bullshit, but they did. Klimov’s second son is coming to see you. If you meet his standards, he’ll move forward with a generous offer on the spot, as if the last decade never happened.

“Seems they think if you can bear an Italian bastard strong enough to make his father willing to marry you for legitimacy’s sake, then your children with a Russian sire should make perfect soldiers.”

I winced as Marco dabbed at some blood on my temple.

“Ow.” I pulled away. “This is fucked up. This is the twenty-first century. How do these stupid asses still not understand it’s the man’s DNA that determines a baby’s gender? Russia hasmodern medicine and, like, the fucking internet, right?”

“The basics of biology are clearly still mystifying,” he teased.

Then my brother’s usual stony expression returned.

“I’m sorry, sorellina. The Russians will be here in about an hour, and I can’t think of a way to get you out of this.”

“We can’t fake my death again?” I asked hopefully.

“A second time? Nah, we’ll never get away with it.”

He winked at me, and I smiled.

“What should I do, Marco? How do I get through this?”

He folded the bloody washcloth while avoiding my gaze.

“You put on a pretty dress. You do your makeup and cover as much of the bruising as you can. You smile like you mean it… and you hope Vignali has something else up his sleeve.”

CHAPTER 19

STEFANO

My blood and my bones vibrated with rage.

If Saul Moscatelli and his son wanted a motherfucking war, I would bring it. If he thought the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre had been Chicago’s bloodiest, and Capone’s war the greatest, he had no idea what the fuck was coming his way.

I stepped back into the ballroom and searched for Val. She stood in a corner, guarded by her thug of a brother. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be in distress.

My heart dropped into my gut.

I had to leave her alone.

If I dared to approach her—to hold her and comfort her—I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from ultimately just taking her. Her brother would have to act, no matter what he and Marco wanted for her. And it would get very ugly in a public setting.

Val would get hurt.

As difficult as it was, I did the only thing I could to keep her safe a little longer. I walked out of the Palmer House alone and headed straight to the private airstrip where the plane waited.

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