Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Vittorio was always aware of everything around him, even when he was in the midst of annihilating an enemy, but nothing was going to stop him, not even Giuseppi, whom he had some respect for. He wanted to smash Val into the ground. Beat him into a bloody pulp. He wouldn’t have stopped, but Ricco caught his bloody fist in midair before it could once again slam into Giuseppi’s heir’s face.
“Enough, Vittorio. He’s had enough.”
“It’s never going to be enough as far as I’m concerned,” Vittorio said, contempt dripping from his voice. Holding Val up, he smashed his fist into his ribs.
“Vittorio, he’s not worth it,” Emmanuelle said softly, laying a restraining hand on his arm. “Please stop.”
Vittorio instantly stepped back, allowing Val’s body to slide down to the floor. Not even looking at the fallen man, he turned, taking Emmanuelle with him, to go to Giuseppi. “Forgive me, Giuseppi. It is a matter of family honor.”
Giuseppi had to be the one to have ordered Val to seduce Emmanuelle, but he still looked puzzled as his gaze moved from his son to Emme. Dario and Angelo crouched beside Valentino.
“Do you need an ambulance?” Ricco asked, his voice strictly neutral.
Giovanni handed Dario a bucket of ice and a cloth.
“No. We’ll take care of this,” Dario snapped, glaring at Vittorio over his shoulder, the promise of retaliation on his face.
“See, Giuseppi,” Miceli said, his voice low, but carrying. “There is no peace between our families. There is no reason for this attack.”
“There was reason,” Val said, his voice husky and edged with pain. “Just leave it alone.”
Vittorio couldn’t give a damn what the Saldis thought or whether or not Val acted like a man and took what was coming to him. No one was going to treat Emmanuelle the way Valentino had and get away with it. As far as he was concerned, the Saldis were the enemy and always would be. In his opinion, a war was brewing between the two families and there was no reason to pretend it wasn’t.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grace glanced down at Vittorio’s hands as he reached for her elbow to help her up. Her breath caught in her throat. “Vittorio.” She breathed his name, shocked at the smashed skin and knuckles as well as the swelling.
“It’s nothing,” he said, dismissing the fact that it was clear he’d been in a fight.
She nearly winced at the curtness in his voice. Vittorio had never been curt with her. Not once. He was always gentle in everything he did and said. She had driven a wedge between them and she wasn’t sure how to make things better. She wanted to, especially after talking with Francesca and Sasha.
The Ferraro family was there in force, even their cousins from New York. They were astonishingly handsome men, just like those in Chicago. She figured their looks came from a long line of good genes. Eloisa was conspicuously missing.
“He was defending my honor,” Emmanuelle said. “I think they were all spoiling for a fight, and I said something I shouldn’t have . . .”
“Emme. Stop.” Vittorio’s voice was commanding.
Grace had never heard him use that particular tone. The way he spoke shut down all conversation in the room.
“I’ve got to get Grace home, so if you’ll excuse me, we’ll be taking off now,” Vittorio added.
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Francesca protested.
“No, honey, I’m sorry.” Vittorio softened instantly and bent to brush a kiss along Francesca’s temple.
“Will you bring Grace back to visit? I really enjoyed seeing her.”
“When I get the chance.”
No one but Grace seemed to notice his hesitation. It was a tiny thing but one more blow she felt deeply. He looked tired and unhappy. She desperately wanted to find a way to get him to sleep better and take that look of melancholy from his face. She knew she was responsible for putting it there in the first place. She just hadn’t expected to miss him so much or that his despondency would affect her quite so completely. She actually hurt with the need to make things better for him.
She said her good-byes and stepped into the private elevator with Vittorio. The moment the doors slid closed, she turned to him. “We watched the entire event playing out on the hotel security screens in Francesca’s room. It was really frightening. You moved so fast to save Giuseppi Saldi. I couldn’t help being proud of you but terrified for you at the same time. When you covered his body with yours, you were completely exposed to that gunman.”
She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking or the little bite of accusation out of it. She’d been terrified for him, so had the other women, which hadn’t eased her mind. Demetrio and Drago wanted to turn off the screens, but Francesca had refused.
Vittorio looked down at her from his superior height, making her feel small and fragile. He was a big man all over, his chest, arms and legs heavy with muscle. He was a good foot taller, easily more, and she was slight in comparison. His indigo eyes drifted over her face, making her want to squirm. She did squirm under his focused scrutiny.