Page 130 of The Mafia King's Reign
She handles each interaction with grace, never giving them what they're looking for. Never showing fear or uncertainty.
I'm so fucking proud of her.
"You're doing beautifully," I murmur against her ear as we pause near one of the windows.
"I feel like I'm being examined under a microscope," she admits quietly.
"You are. And you're passing every test." I press a kiss to her temple.
"Just a little longer, then we can leave."
That's when I see him.
Lorenzo Calabri. Mid-thirties, heir to the Calabri fortune, and known for being handsy with women who aren't his wife.
He's moving toward us with the confidence of a man who's never faced real consequences.
"Salvatore," he says, extending his hand. "Good to see you."
I shake it, keeping my expression neutral. "Lorenzo."
He looks at Valentina, and something predatory flickers in his gaze. "And who is this beautiful creature?"
"My fiancée." My voice drops a degree. "Valentina."
"Enchanted." Lorenzo takes her hand before she can pull it back and brings it to his lips. The kiss lingers too long. His fingers trail along her wrist as he releases her, a deliberate caress that makes my vision go red at the edges.
"You're a very lucky man, Salvatore," Lorenzo says, his eyes never leaving Valentina. "She's exquisite."
Valentina's smile is polite but cold. "Thank you." She steps closer to me, reclaiming the distance Lorenzo tried to invade.
But Lorenzo doesn't take the hint. He moves closer, his hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder.
"You know," he says, his thumb stroking her skin, "if you ever get tired of playing house with Vitale here, I'd be more than happy to—"
I don't let him finish.
My hand closes around his throat, and I slam him against the nearest wall hard enough that his head cracks against the marble. Gasps ripple through the ballroom as conversations die mid-sentence.
I don't care. I don't care who's watching. I don't care about the politics or the alliances or the careful balance we're supposed to maintain.
All I care about is the fact that this piece of shit touched what's mine.
"You think you can touch my woman?" I tighten my grip, feeling his pulse hammer against my palm. "You think you can put your filthy fucking hands on her and live to brag about it?"
Lorenzo's face is turning purple, his hands clawing at my wrist. He can't breathe. Can't speak. Can't do anything but stare at me with wide, terrified eyes.
Good.
"Salvatore." Matteo's voice cuts through the haze of rage. "Brother. Not here."
I ignore him.
"Every man in this room needs to understand something," I announce, my voice carrying across the silent ballroom. "Valentina Marino is mine. She wears my ring. She will carry my name. And anyone who touches her, looks at her wrong, or even thinks about disrespecting her will answer to me. Personally."
Lorenzo's eyes are starting to roll back.
Salvatore." Valentina's voice is soft, close. I feel her hand on my arm.
