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Gio smiles warmly, his eyes filled with comforting reassurance. “You’ll see, bellissima.”
Chapter Three
ENZO
“Drive,” I command the moment I slide into the car, barely restraining myself from ripping that blue dress to shreds and ravishing her right then and there.
“Sì, signore,” the driver responds promptly, and we speed away. As we leave the tarmac, he asks, “Where to, sir?”
“Home.” The word feels almost foreign on my tongue. I’ve made it my life’s mission not to grow too comfortable anywhere, but this is different.
After Uncle Andre dug his claws into me as a teen, Villa Luca became my sanctuary. The one place I could let my guard down, shed my skin, and just breathe. But not this time.
This time, the walls are too thin, and the shadows too deep. Uncle will be landing within the hour, and I need to be ready.
I glance out the window, trying to shake off the tension as we glide through the gates to the villa. Or rather, a cluster of villas nestled in the secluded Italian countryside.
The rolling hills are peppered with olive groves and vineyards, ancient stone buildings, and sprawling gardens. Beautiful. Private. It’s the perfect place for Bella and me, or it would be if I wasn’t on my way to a fucking welcoming party.
I narrow my eyes as the car winds through a long, cobblestone driveway, and rolls to a stop.
My brother Dante stands front and center, beaming like the cat that ate three canaries. The fucker knows I’m here with a woman, and he just won’t let it go.
Sin is to one side—because apparently, this occasion calls for an attorney—and Dory on the other.
How my meddlesome, insufferable secretary managed to finagle her way into an all-expenses-paid vacation to Italy is anyone’s guess. Though by the thickness of the folder in her hands, she’s about to give me work.
And, with any luck, my next piece of business to attend to. And when I say attend to, I mean kill.
The car pulls to a stop, and my driver rushes to open my door. I step out, calm and collected, adjusting my cuff as I wonder if Dante would prefer granite or marble for his headstone.
Before I can take a breath, Dante strides over, a smirk plastered on his face. “What’s the matter, bro? Not expecting us?” he teases, clapping me on the shoulder with far too much enthusiasm. “Did you know the D’Angelo super-jet can overtake a small transatlantic plane?” He grins, enjoying his little jab.
I grit my teeth, brushing off his hand. “Really? I guess I should’ve asked more questions when I was buying it with your black card,” I retort. “What are you all doing here?” My gaze flicks to Sin and Dory, who are both watching with far too much amusement.
“We figured whatever you’re running from would catch up eventually, and you’d need reinforcements.” He rubs his hands together eagerly. “So, where’s Savannah Whitaker, Dog Trainer to the Stars?” Dante asks, trying to peer through the darkly tinted window.
I straighten my tie as he casually plops his ass on the hood of the car, too comfortably. The last thing I need is for them to learn about Kennedy staying with me. “I’m not running from the boogeyman. That’s your department. As for Savannah, she got under my skin, so I’m doing what I do best.”
“Fucking things up?” Dante asks.
“Underwhelming her with your intellect?” Sin offers.
“I’m torturing her,” I snap.
Dory gasps, Dante crosses his arms, and Sin simply cocks his head. “How?” Sin scoffs. “You’d sooner eat canned spaghetti sauce than torture a woman. Perhaps you’re boring her to death?”
Dante smirks, not missing a beat. “Or suffocating her with your cologne?”
Dory smartly says nothing, her one hand up in surrender as if she wants no part of this. Her other hand is still clutching the folder.
“If you must know, I sent her back to the States,” I say, a smirk playing on my lips.
Dory blinks her big, clueless eyes, confusion etched across her face. “How is that torture?”
My grin widens. “I sent her back coach. Middle seat. With two layovers.”
They all wince in unison. Dante shakes his head, chuckling. “You sadistic bastard.”
