Page 50 of His Son's Ex

I snap my gaze to the curb where a black SUV is parked illegally, its back door wide open. Stepping out is none other than Lombardi’s father, Vito.He moves slowly and deliberately, flanked by two men.

Though he’s passed the official leadership to his son, he’s still the real power behind the Lombardi family. A man like him doesn’t retire—he just operates from the shadows until he dies.

There’s a majestic air about him, the posture of someone who’s commanded fear and respect for decades.His suit is impeccable, dark charcoal with a crisp white pocket square, wealth apparentin every detail—from the gleam of his signet ring to the polished leather of his shoes.

Despite his age, there’s no mistaking the danger in his sharp gaze. He’s built his empire on blood, and he knows he has the upper hand.

For now.

“Bellacino,” he says in a calm voice. “I warned you to stay away. Didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come sniffing around my boy after that wedding fiasco.”

My hands are loose, my stance controlled. “I’ve been trying to talk to him. To settle this before innocent people get caught in the crossfire.”

He snorts. “You’re a snake, just like your father. Always preaching peace while plotting behind closed doors.”

I grit my teeth. “You’re taking advantage of the fact that we’re surrounded by civilians right now,” I remind him, voice low and cold. “You wouldn’t dare pull this in neutral territory.”

A slow, thin smile spreads across his face. “You’re right. I don’t want more bloodshed…here.” He nods toward the building’s windows, where a couple of concerned and scared faces peer out. “This is your turf, Bellacino. If we open fire, we’ll look like the bad guys. You’ll just look weak.”

My jaw clenches. He’s right—letting them walk away without consequences would make me appear cowardly and powerless. But if I act now, I risk turning the sidewalk, my home, into the scene of a massacre.

My fingers twitch. My gun is holstered beneath my jacket. I could draw, but I know I wouldn’t be fast enough. Not against five men.

“Got to admire the balls on you,” I say. “Pulling what you did at my son’s wedding, then threatening me on my own turf.”

He smiles broadly, as if pleased to hear of his own work. “You don’t get to where I am by being timid, Dante.”

I force myself to breathe, to think. “You’re playing with fire, old man.”

He chuckles. “Stay the hell away from Gianni. No more calls. No more threats. Or next time, we won’t be so concerned about bystanders.”

I bristle at the thought. “If Gianni continues provoking me, I won’t hold back,” I warn.

A sneer curls his lips. “You talk big, Bellacino, but look around.” He gestures at his men. “One twitch, and you bleed out right here.”

The restraint it takes to not rip his throat out is monumental, but I can’t risk it. Not with Eva in my life. Not when I promised myself I’d handle things differently this time.

“I already told you I’m not looking to start a war, Vito.”

“Then consider this your only warning.”

Ice settles in my veins. I stare him down. “This isn’t over.”

His laughter is cold and unamused. “Walk away, Bellacino. Take your pass.”

Slowly, I back away, calculating my odds one last time. They may have won this round, but Gianni will not get away with what he’s done.

My driver comes back from rounding the block. The moment he pulls up to the curb, I slide inside, slamming the door shut.

“Go,” I bark.

The tires screech as we pull away. We stay silent for several minutes. I keep my breathing even, my thoughts razor-sharp.

“Boss,” my driver finally says, his voice tight. “What the hell just happened?”

I rub my temples where a dull ache is starting to form. “Lombardi just declared war.”

His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “What do you want to do?”

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