"What?"
"Rocco. He took Sharon."
"Shit," Marcello swore into the phone as Vittorio reached for his pants, pulling them on. "I'm sorry man. I know you cared for her."
"He's starting the damn war," Vittorio growled as he found his shirt. "I'm coming after him."
"Listen, Vit, I know you like her and all, but do you really wanna go down that path for a chick?"
"I'm going to get her," he replied.
He wasn't going to leave her at the mercy of Rocco. Sharon was his fucking world now and the thought of what she could go through, it made him sick to his stomach.
She should never have been part of this world, but she was and he would protect her with his life.
Marcello sighed into the phone, clearly not happy with his decision but smart enough to know that he couldn't talk Vittorio out of it. He would be wasting his fucking breath at this point.
"I'll put some feelers out."
Vittorio grunted before dropping the cell on the bed and throwing the shirt over his head. His mind was already on what he had to do, what must be done. If she thought he was a monster before, he was about to prove how much of a monster he could be.
His chest tightened and Vittorio fell onto the bed, his head in his hands.
Shit.
This was not supposed to be happening. This morning, he had been going to propose to Sharon, ask her to live this life with him for the rest of hers. It wasn't a glamorous life by any means and he was not finished with settling the score with Rocco, but he could protect her, love her the way she ought to be loved. He could give her a comfortable lifestyle, provide her with things she had only dreamed of.
He loved her.
Vittorio groaned, not believing this was happening. Right now, he should be buried between her thighs, not dealing with the pain and loss that was raging through his body.
"Sharon!" he shouted, lifting his head, letting the rawness come out in his voice.
He would find her. And anyone that stood in his way would pay dearly. He would not lose her, he would not fail her.
She was his.
Chapter 2
Vittorio
Vittorio chose an older model Porsche to make his way back to the city, pushing the old car to the limits as he sped down the winding roads, his mind on Sharon. Every fucking second that passed all he could think about was the torture she was going through at the hands of Rocco, who enjoyed playing with his food before he gobbled it up. What kind of frame of mind would she be in once he found her? Would she be broken, defeated and unwilling to even let Vittorio touch her? He had thought he could break her, but she'd proven to be tougher than she looked.
But he didn't know what she would have to suffer at Rocco's hands before he could find her. It would break his heart if she couldn't recover.
Vittorio clutched at the steering wheel as he pulled the classic car into the garage of his apartment building, swinging the car next to his own Porsche before climbing out. Every aspect of his life had Sharon infused in it and his chest tightened when he saw the stairs he'd climbed the first night they had been together, her in his arms as if she'd weighed nothing. It had been the beginning of the end for him, though he hadn't seen it then.
But now his life was never going to be the same, especially if he did not get Sharon back. He could not lose her like he had Lara. He could not stomach the sinking feeling that she could be suffering a far worse fate than getting shot unexpectedly as Lara had. Vittorio thought his world had ended the day he had watched the life drain out of his fiancée.
But not knowing where in the hell Sharon was was worse. He was fucking helpless and he hated that feeling.
Marcello was waiting for him with a glass in his hand when Vittorio walked into his penthouse.
"Man, you look like shit."
"What do you know?" Vittorio asked briskly, not wanting to discuss how or what he felt at the moment.
Marcello eyed him.
"Nothing. I've flushed out a few contacts, but the Anafesto world is quiet. If he has the chick, no one is talking about it."
"Her name is Sharon," Vittorio forced out. "She has a fucking name. Use it."
Marcello didn't respond immediately, his eyes widening.
"Fuck, man, you got it bad, don't you?"
Vittorio ignored him. He walked over the cabinet that held his liquors and selected a bottle. His hands shook as he opened the bottle and pulled a glass down , pouring the amber liquid into the cut crystal. He didn't like to think ‘how bad' he had it.
Picking up the glass, Vittorio took one long draw of the fiery liquid, feeling it burn the back of his throat, before turning to face his best friend.
"I need to find her."
Marcello swallowed, understanding in his expression.
"I know you do, but you are going to start a damn war by doing so. Things are already bad after you called the hit on his nephew."
Vittorio took another swallow of his drink, the burn in his stomach matching the rage he was barely succeeding in holding in.
"Did he die?"
Marcello shook his head.
"No. It went off just like you wanted it to. The kid will be fine and will have a bullet wound to show off to his friends. A graze on his arm, nothing more."
Vittorio nodded tightly, glad that he hadn't killed the kid. The scare was to send a message, for Rocco to back off and quit meddling in his shit. He didn't condone the killing of kids like the mob boss had.
"Good. I want to flush him out and everyone that is associated with him. I want to burn down his businesses, kill his fucking family, and wipe his ugly ass off this damn planet!"
"Vit," Marcello started, holding up his hands. "Calm down."
Vittorio launched the glass across the room. The sound of it exploding against the wall filled the air.
"I don't fucking want to calm down! I want his fucking head on a platter!"
He would not rest until he was the one to put the bullet between Rocco's eyes.
Marcello was smart enough not to say anything for a few minutes. He watched Vittorio watching the liquid run down the wall and puddle on the marble floor.
"What do you wanna do?" he finally asked, his quiet voice shattering the silence.
Vittorio drew in a breath, some of his rage dissipating.
"I want to fucking find Sharon. That's all I want to do."
"And you believe Rocco took her still?"
Vittorio looked at his best friend.
"Who else would take her? He has a beef with me and mine. Fuck man, I would do the same thing if I wanted to get under his skin."
Marcello's mouth curved in a smile.
"Kinda like that night you took his girl?"
Despite his state, Vittorio grinned. That had been a fucking good night. Rocco's face had turned beet red when Vittorio had intercepted his new girl at a party and talked her into going into the bathroom with him. The sneer on his face when they had exited had been enough to make Vittorio smile all night.
Sobering up, he shook his head.
"That was different."
"Why? Because you love this chick?"
Vittorio shot Marcello a look. He couldn't explain it to him, could explain it to no one. The feelings he had for that vicious blonde who had taken his life and turned it upside down was not something he could even put into words.
"She's good for me."
Marcello nodded slowly.
"If you say so. Right now, she's gonna give you a fucking aneurysm."
Vittorio cracked his knuckles before reaching for his phone, all business now.
"Let's fucking start this war and see which man comes out on top."
Marcello sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I was afraid you were gonna say that."
Chapter 3
Vittorio
His plan was set in action.
Vittorio jiggled his knee as the dark sedan weaved through traffic, the gun balanced in his lap. He was on edge, unable to keep still. Every second that they looked for Sharon was another second that he worried about her safety, that he feared the worst.
In all his life, the very life he had led, he had never been scared... until now. Now, he was fucking terrified for her. What she must be going through, what he knew Rocco was capable of. Hell, while he liked to separate himself from the Anafesto clan, there wasn't much difference between the two. Both were bloodthirsty, both had histories of violence with no recourse for what they did.
But he was not Rocco. He did not prey on young women, nor did he snatch them from the streets. Sharon had given herself freely to Vittorio, she not been taken by brutal force. He had been rough in the beginning, but more because she had unnerved him, made him feel things that he thought he wouldn't feel again.
She had changed him and, once he found her again, he would do whatever she said, whatever she wanted. Everyone could laugh at him, call him weak, but all he needed was that woman at his side, knowing that she was safe.