Page 20 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
This version of Lorenzo is cold. Angry. As he makes another call, barking orders into the phone, I realize he’s ruthless too.
Frankly, this side of him is terrifying. There’s no warmth to him right now. The only sign I have that the Lorenzo I’ve been getting to know isn’t completely gone is his hold on my hand. Gentle, but there’s no mistaking the claim in it.
He releases me after his second phone call, striding to the front door. He whips it open and calls out something I can’t hear. When he comes back inside, two men in black follow him. One ofthem already looks like he’s about to shit his pants, and Lorenzo must see it too because he glares at the man.
The nervous-looking guy shuffles his feet but slightly raises his head.
“I’m responsible, sir. I shouldn’t have done it, but I needed a smoke. I just stepped away for a moment?—”
The man’s words cut off as Lorenzo’s fist goes flying into his face, sending the guy to the floor with one powerful punch.
I cover my mouth to keep from screeching. I love some reckless adventure, but I haven’t been around much violence. Seeing it up close is jarring.
“Get in my office,” Lorenzo orders the men.
They scurry in that direction, and he turns to me. There’s a slight softening in his expression when he looks at me, but I can feel the anger simmering beneath the surface.
“You have nothing to worry about, wife,” he says. Even his tone has softened, and I tell myself not to be too pleased by that. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just placating me. “But you should probably go to our room until I’m done conducting business. I’ll be up shortly.”
I just nod, my throat feeling tight. He follows his men into the office. There’s still a box with a severed hand in the foyer. I try not to look at it as I walk past, heading to the stairs.
I can’t do this. I can’t stay here.
It’s one thing to listen to Lorenzo admit to his crimes, but it’s another to see severed body parts show up at the door.
This is what his enemies do?
I won’t stick around to find out. Lorenzo is locked up in his office with the guards that are supposed to be watching the property, so now’s probably my best chance. I don’t allow myself to hesitate. I never wanted to get married in the first place, so I’m getting out of here before anyone has the chance to stop me.
I haven’t even unpacked yet, so it’s easy to grab my stuff and head out. I only pause long enough to pull off the wedding rings. It’s a shame. They really are beautiful. I leave them on Lorenzo’s nightstand.
Walking downstairs silently, I slip out the front door while he’s yelling at his men in the office. I’ll walk a block or two, then order an Uber to take me to the airport. Leave Lorenzo and this nightmare behind.
He’s going to be pissed, but by the time he realizes I’m gone, it’ll be way too late to stop me.
Sorry, husband. This is goodbye.
8
LORENZO
Kozlov is one bold motherfucker,I’ll give him that.
The two guards standing in front of my desk look like they’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
Good. They should be terrified.
One has a split lip from where I introduced his face to my fist. The other is cradling his ribs like they might be cracked.
They’re lucky I didn’t put bullets in their heads.
“Get out,” I tell them. “You’re both demoted to street patrol. If you fuck up again, you’ll end up like the package on my doorstep.”
They scurry out like roaches when the lights come on.
I turn my attention back to the security footage on my laptop screen. There it is, clear as day; my so-called professional guard slipping away from his post for a fucking cigarette break. Thirty seconds later, a figure in a black balaclava rushes up to my front door, drops the box, and vanishes into the shadows.
Thirty seconds. That’s all it took for someone to waltz up to my home and deliver a severed hand like it was a goddamn pizza order.
