AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I feel the heat rising, anger threatening to spill over. “My marriage, my business.”
“Your business is my business!” he roars back. “Who is she? Her family? What use is she to us?”
“In good time,” I reply, steel in my tone. But it’s not enough for him.
“I should let Dante handle the Mexicans,” he spits venomously. “After this stunt, you’re clearly reckless and not capable.”
Dante chuckles, pouring another drink. “Yeah, Leone, just holding onto grudges because of—”
“Shut up about Lydia,” I warn, but he continues, pushing that one button he knows will set me off.
“Can’t help it if the whore loved the pipe more than—”
Fury blinds me. I lunge across the room, my fist connecting with his face, the other hand driving his head down onto the desk with a satisfying thud.
“Enough!” Father bellows, his authority unyielding even now. “That’s in the past,” he snarls.
To him, it is in the past, and to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if my Father prompted Dante to do it. He never liked Lydia and always called her a gold digger.
I release Dante, my breath ragged, staring down at the man who’s both blood and enemy. My Father paces like it will help him make sense of my actions.
“Do you love her? Is that it?” he asks, looking at me appalled.
“Who I marry is none of your business. She is not your concern.”
“Can she be trusted?” Father demands, sinking into a chair as if it’s his throne.
“More than some here,” I shoot back, as I glare at my brother.
“Was she forced? Or is she just some gold-digging whore? Or a prostitute like Lydia was?” Dante taunts.
Silence is my only answer. He doesn’t deserve one.
“This is great. You marry some whore and won’t tell me anything about her! Are you a fucking imbecile? Did you even look into who she is?” My father bellows, furious. I watch his outburst calmly, knowing nothing I say will stop his ranting until he feels he has gotten his point across, a point I simply don’t care about.
“Does she even love you— I gather she isn’t Italian either?”
My father’s words cut off when her voice filters through the door as she and Milo move past my office. My Father turns, and I stare at it for a second as her voice grows fainter along with Milo’s. He turns back to me, his lips pursed.
“Right, well then, let’s meet her?” he demands as he turns towards the door before I can refuse him. I curse under my breath while my brother snickers at my expense. My father never bitched him out for being willing to marry into the Mexican cartel, so he can hardly be upset over Fallon not being Italian.
I stand up and grab him by the back of his shirt, ripping him backward.
“A word of advice, brother. She is off limits, hai capito?”
Dante’s eyes widen before a smirk spreads across his face. “Oh, I get it now,” he taunts before I let him go.
“You don’t want me around her because you’re afraid she’ll prefer me over you…Just like Lydia.” He saunters off after my father, and I suck in a breath, wishing I could just kill the bastardo. I hear my father’s voice echo up the hall as he demands breakfast, and I step out, closing my office door behind me.
My father is going to hate her. That much I am sure of. I just hope Fallon has some sense to keep her mouth shut, or he may just try to kill her. I walk into my kitchen, and Milo pulls a chair out for Fallon when they notice us coming into the room. My father is looking at her like she’s a piece of meat. His eyes raking over her in a possessive way that doesn’t sit right with me.
“Dad, Dante, this is Fallon, my wife,” I say as I slide an arm around her waist possessively.
“Well, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes? A pleasure,” Dante says in his smoothest voice. I glare at him, and Dante smirks, knowing he is getting to me.
“Father, this is Fallon, Fallon, my father, Vittorio Salvatore Pressutti, and my sleazy fuck of a brother Dante.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
