Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
As it was, having only the exterior hood and roof on fire bought us time.
Not much.
But every second counted.
I stretched out my arm. “I need—”
Before I could finish my sentence, my father was at my side. “Right here, son.”
He handed me his Franchi SPAS-12 combat shotgun. “Ella, lean forward,” I yelled.
She ducked her head until her forehead touched the steering wheel.
I fired one shot at the upper right corner of the window, shattering it.
“Christ, she’s duct taped to the fucking steering wheel.”
Ella shook her head as tears streamed down her flushed face. It was clear she was trying to speak to me over her duct taped gag. Although I couldn’t make out the words, it was obvious she was begging me to leave and save myself.
Knowing it was important to keep her calm despite the danger and rising flames around us, I gave her a quick wink and teased, “I love you too, baby.”
My hand reached into my boot for my switchblade. After flicking it open, I made quick work of her binds.
My father and I both yanked Ella through the window.
I then tossed her over my shoulder and ran.
We needed to get as far away from the vehicle as possible before it—
The car exploded into a searing ball of flame.
When we reached our SUV, my cousins and Sebastian had already dragged Fino and his cohorts back.
I set Ella down, carefully brushing pieces of pebble-like glass from her hair and clothes before placing her in the passenger seat. Crouching down in front of her, I held up my blade. “I need to cut the tape. Stay very still.”
Her brow furrowed as she whimpered.
Very carefully, I slipped the tip of the knife under the tape's edge and sliced through it. I hissed as I was forced to gingerly pull the tape off her swollen lips. Rather than pull her hair, I cut the strands still attached to the tape. Her hair was so wavy and full, no one would ever notice the thin, uneven layer.
The moment she was free she threw her arms around my neck. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered against my neck, “I knew you’d come.”
I pushed her hair back away from her tearstained face. “I told you, colomba mia. I’m never letting you leave me. And that includes even in death.”
She cupped my face. “I love you, Matteo. Husband.”
With my hand over hers, I turned my face to kiss her palm. “I love you too, Ella. My amazingly brave wife.”
Cesare cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt this super touching scene”—he checked his watch—“but I need to get back to my own pregnant wife. Can we kill these three already?”
I turned back to Ella and winked. “I’ll just be a minute.”
I rose to my full height and approached the cowering men as I rolled up my sleeves. “Fino is mine.”
CHAPTER 53
MATTEO
“Fuck, we’re late,” I ground out as I navigated through the narrow streets of Cavalieri village.
In the rearview mirror, I saw my father adjust his deep-purple-and-black tie. The colors matching his right eye. “We’re not late.”
In the back seat, Enzo winced as he shrugged into his suit jacket, which only caused his split lip to open and bleed again. “We’re definitely late.”
Cesare pulled the pieces of rolled-up, bloody tissue out of his nostrils. “It’s not like we don’t have a pretty good excuse.”
Sebastian turned around from the passenger seat to look at him. “Do you honestly think she’ll care?”
He was right. Aunt Gabriella would straight up murder us if we didn’t get there soon.
Cesare leaned forward and patted me on the shoulder. “Drive faster.”
There were very few things that would pull me away from Ella’s side right now, but this was one of them. We had stopped off at the winery only long enough to change and secure Ella in Rosa and Lucia’s very capable arms.
Well, Rosa, Lucia and fifteen armed guards surrounding the villa with two posted outside my bedroom door.
While I appreciated the bravery it took for her to offer to come with me, I knew she had already been through too much.
The car fell silent as we neared the center of the village and saw the posters.
They lined the streets like wallpaper. Not a single wall, shop window, or post was left bare.
The town square was plastered with them as well.
The posters announced Alfonso’s death and the details of his funeral, as was the custom in Italy. While usually one or two prominent posters was acceptable, it was a testament to how beloved Alfonso was that everyone wanted to honor his passing by displaying one.
We had to pull over before reaching Santa Maria Church because the streets were clogged with flowers and candles. As we walked together toward the hearse, I swiped at my eyes.
Uncle Barone greeted us. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you, boys?”