Page 94 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“He’s dangerous.” Veronica’s eyes fill with tears–then she nods to the balcony door. My instincts roar at her unspoken message.
“He’s not as dangerous as you might think,” I snarl, taking my phone from my pocket.
Siena looks at me, confused. I gesture with my hand: keep going…
“What are you working on this morning?” Siena asks, not missing a beat.
Tears are streaming down Veronica’s cheeks now, but she manages to speak with a clear voice. “Finishing touches for the renewal.”
On my phone, I open a note and type.
Is he on the balcony?
Veronica nods.
Is he armed?
She shrugs.
So, possibly?
A nod.
I stand slowly, keeping my voice casual. “We’ve got people searching the island for him. But my uncle thinks he’s left. That would be the smart thing for him to do. Perhaps he could’ve gotten some men on his side if he had fucked this trip up, but he overplayed his hand. He overestimated himself.”
I gesture at them both to act natural.
“We don’t need to worry about that now,” Siena says. “Let’s just make this the best event we can.”
Carefully, I move toward the balcony door, my body primed for violence. There’s a mood that grips a man when he’s getting ready for fighting, a blunt savagery that’s necessary for what I’ll have to do if he doesn’t come quietly.
When I reach the door, yank it open and leap onto the balcony.
No sign of him.
I hear splashing, water sloshing.
I walk to the edge of the balcony and look down at the water, see the ripples, the path they’re taking.
It takes me too long to realize what he’s doing.
My godfatherwason the balcony, but he jumped into the water and swam around to the pier, meaning he has access to the front door.
“Siena!” I roar, turning and darting back into the room.
The front door bursts open. Rocco runs in, his shirt stuck to chest, water dripping down his face. It’s a race to see who can get to Siena first.
Siena is closer to the door, Rocco beating me to her before I can make it across the room. I’m about to lunge at him when he says, “Ah ah.” He pulls a gun from nowhere and pushes it against the side of her head, a short snub-nosed pistol, the type that’s easier to smuggle.
“Don’t get any silly ideas, godson,” Rocco says, letting out a cold, hard laugh. I finally see the real him. The mania in his eyes. That he’s enjoying this. “That was pretty slick, huh?”
Siena wriggles against him.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Listen to your man,” Rocco taunts. “Do you want to die, bitch? I’ll blow your goddamn brains out.”
“Rocco, you need to calm down.”
