Page 7 of Beautiful Villain
3
Gianni
She bled on my leather.
That was my first real irritation—not the impact, not the shouting idiots gathering on the sidewalk, not even the way her body had gone loose when I lifted her.It was the dark smear spreading across the seat I’d had imported from Milan because the original color wasn’t right for this car.The beige looked so much nicer.
“She’s conscious,” Enzo said from the front.
“Then she’s not dying,” I replied.“If she were, she’d be quieter about it.”
I watched her as she sat across from me on the back seat.Her head lolled against the door, hair darkened with sweat, lashes fluttering like she was fighting something heavy and inevitable.The wedding dress—what was left of it—was torn in multiple places, ruined.Lace hung loose, silk shredded and filthy.
A bride.In the street.Bleeding.This city never ran out of surprises.It just kept giving me various versions of stupidity.
“Slow down,” I said to Enzo.“If you kill her after hitting her, you’ll be facing murder rather than manslaughter.”
The car eased through traffic, then stalled.Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance.
I loosened my cufflinks and rolled my sleeves back, then leaned toward her and caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger.
Her skin was warm, her pulse racing.She was alive.Annoyingly so.
She made a sound when I tilted her face toward the light.A low, broken thing, like she wanted to scream but didn’t have the strength to do so.Her eyes opened briefly—dark, unfocused—and landed on me.
Recognition sparked.
Not of who I was.OfwhatI was.She had good instincts.
“Easy,” I said, not kindly.
She tried to pull away, folding herself into the door.
“She’s probably got a concussion,” Larry muttered.
“She’s got poor judgment,” I corrected.
She whispered something.I leaned closer, hoping to hear.
“…don’t,” she breathed.“Please.”
Please was an inefficient word.It rarely saved anyone.
I released her and sat back.“She’s not going to the hospital.”
Enzo turned in his seat.“Boss?—”
“No hospitals,” I repeated calmly.Flat.Final.“Not with a dozen witnesses who saw the accident.I don’t need the police breathing down my neck over one more complication.”
There was a pause.People always liked to test the boundaries, right up until they remembered who they were standing next to.Eventually, everyone fell into line.Even the stubborn ones.Especially the stubborn ones.
“Take us to the house in Montalcino,” I said.
Then, like it was nothing—like I hadn’t just rerouted an entire day—I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to my right-hand man Dunn, instructing him to deal with the witnesses.Quietly.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and exhaled through my nose.
This was so not what I fucking needed right now.
