Page 49 of Forsaking All Others

Instantly, everyone moved toward the door.

I scowled, outraged that his male authority was so much more than my own.

God, I was sick of the patriarchy.

I waited until the others left before forcing my gaze to meet Dario’s. He had, obviously, showered away the blood that had soaked his body and was once again immaculate in a crisp black button-up and trousers. Even though bright, unforgiving sunlight cut through the massive windows on three sides of the room, I couldn’t see the three-lined scar I’d left on his cheek the day of our wedding.

It only made me want to try again, dig my nails deeper this time.

“What is it, Fiammetta?” Dario asked as he stood and strolled to his desk, where he casually picked up a bundle of papers to peruse. “As you can imagine, I have much to do in the wake of yesterday.”

“No,” I said, gathering my anger to me like armor. “I can’t imagine, because I have no fucking idea why the Russians came for me and what they hoped to gain. I don’t know what you’ll do now that they are dead. I don’t know how this will affect our lives—my life—because you have never once talked to me about these things.”

Dario had the audacity to toss the papers back on the desk, lean his hips against the front of the wood, and cross his arms loosely over his chest as he stared me down with a raised brow. “Surely, as the daughter of a capo yourself, you know that my business is none of your business.”

“Surely,” I mocked heavily, my accent thickening, “you know that after losing my entire family, being forced to move across the world from everything I had ever known, and being married to you, one of the most powerful and dangerous men in Chicago, means that I have every right to ask about what kind of danger I might be in at any given time. Especially if there have been threats against my life,” I ended on a shout.

“It is my job to protect you, not your own,” Dario rebuked.

“I could take care of myself if I knew what the hell I was up against,” I countered furiously, stalking forward to press the point of my red nail into his chest.

His laugh was coarse, abrading my skin like sandpaper. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it in one swift maneuver that had me spinning away from him, my arm wrenched painfully behind my back.

When he spoke, his breath was hot on my neck. “You think because you practice at that little dojo and know how to shoot a gun that you can take care of yourself against the underworld scum of Chicago? Don’t be cute when I do not have the time to fuck you, bambolina.”

Red descended over my vision like a mist. Giving into impulse, I did what Akira had been teaching me for years now.

I tucked the elbow of the arm Dario had firmly in his hold closer into my body, throwing him off balance slightly with the change of pressure, and then twisted toward him, his grip easing with the proximity of my body moving closer to his. I only had a brief second to enjoy the confused, annoyed frown on his face before I was lifting my left hand, fingers curled in and heel raised to slam it into Dario’s nose.

There was a delicate crunch, and then blood pulsed between his nostrils, the hot splash of it catching my wrist as I pulled back and then stepped swiftly away from him.

I was panting, not from exertion but rage and adrenaline as I stared at him hunched over, cupping one big hand around his bloodied nose. It probably wasn’t broken, but if it was, I decided it was what he deserved.

“I am not your doll,” I said, sucking in air between my teeth as I tried to calm myself enough to be clear. “I am not a princess waiting in this godforsaken tower for you to rescue me from unforeseen evil. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and from now on, I won’t trust you to do it yourself. You said you were looking for me, but you wouldn’t have had to if I’d known about the threat. I wouldn’t have gotten into the car with Frank. Cazzo, Dario, I wouldn’t have been waiting outside in the rain alone. If you’re so strong and almighty, you should know to use whatever resources you have at your disposal, and I could be one of them. I’m smart. I’m observant. I have trained myself not to be a liability, and yesterday, I saved myself from those Bratva feccia. Not you. Me.”

I heaved in a breath and noted he was watching me now with something other than irritation, another kind of heat behind those arctic eyes, his mouth pressed tight as if he had to hold himself back from revealing something to me.

I was too irate to read into his minute expressions, though.

“You don’t want me in your business? Fine, but don’t expect me to play your arm candy when it suits you anymore. Don’t expect me to ever ‘take your word’ for anything ever again. We might have promised to forsake all others in our wedding vows, Dario, but as of now, I’m forsaking you.”

We stared at each other for a long pulsating moment that throbbed like a wound. The tension was palpable but too wrought to decipher. Then, Dario straightened in his lean against the desk and crossed his arms again, letting his nose bleed freely down his chin and into his shirt.

When he spoke, blood stained his teeth. “Come vuoi.”

As you wish.

No! Of course, this is not what I wished.

For one breath-arresting heartbeat, I thought about throttling him.

I wanted to be married to Niccolo, living in a big warm house in Sicily with my father down the street and my brothers as frequent visitors. I wanted kids who were made through love and an easy, simple life of loving them and their father. I wanted to be back in that bubble I’d once hated so much, happy in my ignorance that the world might have been a dangerous place but not for me, cradled at the heart of a Mafia empire.

Cradled by the hands of men who loved me enough to protect me.

I cracked my knuckles instead of saying any of that and turned sharply on my heel as I stalked out the door. Lando and Carla were on the other side, clearly eavesdropping. Lando looked strangely uncomfortable, but Carla merely took me by the arm, murmuring platitudes as she led me to the kitchens.

I let her tow me along, knowing it was the last time anyone would be doing anything of the sort.