Page 18 of The Cost of Corruption
In fact, he hadn’t moved an inch since the door had busted wide open. He was still lounging back on the couch, his jacket and shirt hanging wide open. Hell, even his head was still lolled back against the cushions.
Despite the obvious danger, he seemed perfectly relaxed.
Maybe it was because of the hulking black-clad security guard standing directly behind my father, his beefy hands clasped around both of his shoulders as he struggled to restrain him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. D’Angelo,” the guard said over my father’s constant stream of curses. “He rushed past me. There was no stopping him.”
“It’s all right, Marcus,” Matteo assured the man. “I had a feeling Mr. Costa would be showing up sometime tonight.”
My eyes went wide. “You did?”
Matteo gave a deep sigh as he finally sat up into a more business-like position—though he made no move to button either his shirt or jacket.
“I figured one of your cousins was bound to call him once we kicked them out of the club,” he explained a little too calmly. “And once he arrived to bail them out of trouble, he’d discover you were no longer with the group and come looking for you.”
“I didn’t have to look hard,” my father howled. “Half a dozen people saw you forcing her up these stairs in the commotion.”
“Forcing?” Matteo gave a humorless laugh. “Is that what they said? Funny, that’s not how I remember it. How about you, Chastity?”
Just the sound of my name on Matteo’s lips was enough to send my father off into another fit of thrashing in the poor security guard’s grasp.
“You bastard,” he howled, his voice crackling with intensity. “Don’t talk to my daughter. Don’t evenlookat her, or I’ll tear the heart right out of your chest.”
I tensed up, shaking at the sound of my father’s violent threats, but Matteo didn’t so much as blink.
“No, you won’t,” he said with what sounded like utter certainty. “You won’t even send your lowest street soldier after me, Costa—and we both know it. So cut the shit. The only person you’re scaring here is your own daughter.”
“Maybe she should be scared,” he said, glancing my way again. His lip curled up in disgust, and pure contempt shone in his eyes. It was a look he’d only given me once before—on the day he’d discovered I’d gone lingerie shopping with Alessia.
A wave of guilt washed over me at the sight, and my shoulders fell forward. I bowed my head down as my gaze turned toward the floor.
Matteo had a very different reaction.
Even as I was swallowed up by shame, I felt his hand tighten around my wrist. His languid energy changed as his whole body stiffened, going on the defensive.
“That better not be a threat, Costa,” he said, his voice turning cold as ice as he rose to his feet.
“Or what?” my father shot back with a sneer. “Everyone knows Matteo D’Angelo is a coward who hides behind his brothers. You’ve never gotten your hands dirty—not for your own family, and sure as hell, not for a woman.”
I glanced up from the floor long enough to see a frozen fire burning bright in Matteo’s eyes. But to my surprise, he didn’t even try to defend himself.
Instead, he made his own threat—one that was twice as sharp and deadly sounding than any my father had made so far.
“For you, I might make an exception, Costa.”
Up to that point, I’d never witnessed my father back down from anyone. Not even an inch. But faced with Matteo’s controlled, icy fury, he cut his losses and turned his rage toward me.
“Come on, Chastity,” he commanded. “I’ll deal with you at home.”
Without thinking, I stepped forward, fearful of the consequences if I didn’t obey. But I didn’t get any farther than that single step.
Matteo’s hand still held me tight…and he didn’t show any intention of letting go. “And exactlyhoware you going to deal with her?” he demanded.
My father’s jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business, D’Angelo. She’s not one of your whores.”
“And she’s also not your property, Costa,” Matteo shot back without hesitation. “She’s a grown woman who can decide for herself where she wants to go and who she wants to be with.”
Strange.
