“Sir—”
The guard mumbled something, but I didn’t care about that. Instead, when Dominic rounded the table, I pounced on him, grabbing his collar and dragging him backward until I had him pinned against the wall.
“What the—” my dad’s voice came.
“Salvatore!”
Roman’s shout registered, but all I could see were Dominic’s eyes, the look in them both evil and proud, like the cocky prick he was.
He knew exactly why I was here.
“What did you want, taking Jacob?”
His grin widened. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“You scared the shit out of Natalie!”
“What’s going on?” my father asked behind me.
“Nothing—” Dominic started.
“It’s called fucking kidnapping, asshole!” I said before slamming him hard against the wall.
“Salvatore, get off him,” Roman said, his voice the calmest of all. “Let him go.”
“Yeah, Salvatore, get off me,” Dominic mimicked Roman.
His face, his tone, they infuriated me. He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. Not Jacob. Not Natalie, not anyone. “You fucking prick.” I released him, and Dominic straightened, attempting to fix his collar, but as he did, I drew my fist back and struck his jaw so hard, his head slammed back into the wall, and he stumbled. “You don’t even give a shit, do you?” I straightened him, and this time, drove my fist into his gut. “You don’t give a shit about scaring that little boy. About scaring the crap out of your brother’s wife.”
It took three men and Roman to drag me off him, but before they did, I’d landed one more punch on Dominic’s jaw. He struggled to stand, his grin angry as he wiped blood from his lip.
“What the hell are you talking about, Salvatore?” my father demanded.
I noticed then how he stood back, watching, a weariness in his eyes.
“Why don’t you tell him?” I said, fighting against the men who held me, watching Dominic, his expression pissed, bruises already coloring his face. “Tell him what you did.”
“He’s my nephew too.”
“Fuck you, you’ve never cared about that.”
“Enough!” My father’s voice bellowed through the room. “Sit him down.”
The men holding me shoved me into a seat and held me there. I watched my father stalk toward Dominic. I’d never seen him do that with him before.
“Did you hurt Jacob?” he asked, his tone low, threatening.
“I didn’t hurt him. I took him toy shopping and bought him a fucking ice-cream cone!”
“You scared him. He’s just a child. Your brother’s son!” I said.
“Dominic?” my father asked, some of the color drained from his face.
I freed myself of the men who held me and stood. “I have just one message for you.” My voice came low and deep. “Stay away from Natalie and Jacob, or God help me—”
“Dominic!” my father snapped.
I walked out, shaking out of the hold of one of Dominic’s men. “I’m leaving. Keep your hands off me.”
“Did you lay a finger on Sergio’s boy?” I heard my father ask.
I didn’t look back. I walked out the door and back to my car, satisfied with having beaten Dominic, but not quite trusting that my threat would keep Jacob and Natalie safe.
As I started the engine and turned the wheel, movement at the front door caught my attention. It was Patricia. She glanced behind her several times as she made her way toward me. I rolled down my window.
“Mr. Benedetti.” She was out of breath.
“Yes?”
“Your uncle asked me to give this to you.” She slipped a note to me and quickly backed away from the car.
“Thank you, Patricia,” I said absently as I unfolded it and read the brief, hurriedly written note: Dominic visited Isabella DeMarco late last night, just before your arrival there.
Dominic was there? I’d gone inside—well, I’d gotten as far as the foyer. Did Lucia know Dominic was there and keep it from me? And did this confirm my growing suspicion?
16
Lucia
I woke suddenly, sucking in a breath, my throat incredibly dry.
Looking around, I remembered where I was, remembered the night before. I lay in Salvatore’s bed, his scent still on his pillow, the indentation where his head had been now containing a small piece of paper.
Unfolding it, I read:
I need to take care of some business. I will be back this afternoon. I have Marco’s phone, and I’ve programmed the number into yours in case you need anything.
Salvatore
I set it down and closed my eyes, feeling sheepish at what I’d done, dropping his phone into the toilet.