Page 175 of Bleed with Me

“That’s for taking my wife,” Dorian seethed, pressing the barrel of his gun against his neck. “Hurt her again.” He smiled maniacally. “Fuck, just make her sad, or God forbid she cries because of you,” he released the safety, “and you’ll be begging me to kill you, Lorenzo. Do you understand?”

A tear rolled down Dad’s cheek, and he nodded.

“Words!” Dorian demanded.

“Y-yes,” Dad breathed in a trembling voice. “I understand.”

“Perfect.” A slow smile spread across Dorian’s face, one so calm and satisfied it chilled me far more than his shouting ever could. “Get him out of my sight.”

He straightened to his full height, took hold of my arm, and pulled me up with him.

“He needs a doctor.” I tried to walk past my husband, but he didn’t let me.

“I’m the only doctor he’ll see, ma vilaine,” he said, freezing me on the spot. His threatening words were one thing. They were cold, ruthless, and absolutely justified in the mafia world we grew up in. But what I wouldn’t tolerate was him hurting the man I cared about.

“If you think I’ll let you—” I started, but he roughly pulled me against his chest, effectively cutting me off.

“I don’t ask for permission, wifey. You reap what you sow.”

-69-

Nina

Iwas so angry that I refused to sit in the same car as Dorian. Instead, I demanded to be with my father, but Zyon didn’t even spare me a glance. His men pushed Dad into the back seat of a huge black SUV, blood dripping down his arm, leaving a terrifying trail behind.

My teeth clashed together as I slammed my hand against the car window, yet no one cared about my frustration. The man, as huge as a giant, sat behind the steering wheel, and in a split second, they were out of the property, followed by Zyon’s black Maserati and three other cars.

“Let’s go, Nina.” Dorian opened the passenger door of the elegant sports car for me, casting me an expectant look, but I shook my head no. Stubbornly, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.

“Are you sure this is how you want to act?” He mirrored my stance, the leather jacket straining across his shoulders and biceps.

“Yes,” I snapped, my eyes narrowing. “Will you shoot me, too?”

An arrogant smirk lifted a corner of his mouth.

“Worse.”

He closed the distance in three long strides. I flinched away from him, but he caught me around the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell!” I yelled, but it had no effect on him, so I punched him in the back, which he rewarded with a hard slap on my ass.

I gasped. The audacity of this man was downright outrageous!

“Let me go!” I kicked and punched until he, surprisingly gently, placed me on the passenger seat. A potent smell of leather mixed with the typical scent of a brand-new car filled my nostrils while I squirmed as much as I could. Still, he managed to fasten my seatbelt and, with a victorious grin grazing his tempting lips, he slammed the door shut.

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him as he rounded the front of the car, maintaining eye contact. My feet bounced against the floor, my long fingernails digging into my jacket just from pure irritation. I was so pissed at him I could breathe fire, but he smiled. He fucking smiled, with dimples and everything, as if he just hadn’t murdered my guards and shot my father.

How dare he look relieved after everything he’d just done?

“Can you stop grinning?” I burst out when we left the Valentino property. He casually rested his arm on the armrest between us, humming Beethoven's “Fifth Symphony.” “And what’s with the song?” He raised a brow at me. “Stop!”

“Will you stop fuming, ma vilaine?”

“No! I could actually chew your head off!” I slammed my hand against the dashboard. “What the fuck was that?”

Dorian slowed down and glanced at me curiously.

“You’re scared.”