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“Mrs. Falco,” he sneers. “When did you get married?”
I lift my chin and lock eyes with him. “Yesterday.”
One of his eyebrows lifts. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
“You weren’t invited,” I bite the words out through clenched teeth.
I can’t believe he attacked us.
“Why?” I demand.
“Why not,” he chuckles. “Damiano’s not the only one with Falco blood in his veins.” His features tighten with anger. “I’m older. I’ve watched him run the Cosa Nostra for far too long. It’s my birthright to sit at the head of the table.”
I shake my head. “Damiano’s the Capo dei Capi.”
“Not for long,” Stefano hisses. “Once he’s dead, I’ll take over.”
What reality does this man live in?
“The other four heads won’t allow it,” I argue.
Stefano steps closer to me until I feel his breath on my face. “They’ll have no fucking choice but to follow me once I kill Damiano.”
Dio. Is he insane?
We no longer live in the eighties where you can kill the Capo dei Capi and take over the family.
I’ve seen how close the five heads are.
“Good luck,” I mutter. “You’re going to need it.”
He lets out a chuckle. “No, Gabriella, you’re going to need it.”
Shit.
He signals something to his men, and I watch as they bring a camera closer. They set it down on a metal table, and a red light comes on.
No.
I start to strain against the ropes, but it only makes them cut deeper into my wrists.
Stefano turns to his men while ordering, “Filippo, take off her dress.”
NoNoNoNoNo!
As I begin to struggle again, my body swings, and one of the men grabs hold of me.
The man that Stefano called Filippo comes closer, and using scissors, he starts cutting my dress from the hem upward.
When I hear Stefano let out a bark of amused laughter, I force myself to stop fighting. Sucking in a deep breath, I find a spot on the wall to look at.
You will not cry.
You won’t beg.
You’re Damiano’s wife. Don’t give them anything.
The fabric is ripped off my body, and hanging in only my underwear, I keep repeating the words to myself.
