Chapter 55 Chapter 54 - Bad Mannered Visitor
Dante's POV
Gianni's eyes, tired, annoyed, still dark with lust, turned back to Cedric sprawled on the bed. He wanted to ignore the knocking.
Wanted nothing more than to finish what he'd started, to push that defiant brat past his breaking point until there was nothing left but complete, beautiful surrender.
But the knock came again, more urgent than the first time.
"Merda," Gianni muttered under his breath, already pulling away from Cedric's trembling body with far more restraint than he felt capable of.
Incompetent bastards. All of them. Couldn't function independently for five fucking minutes without running to him like lost children. This had better be important; the fires of hell raining down on them, an invasion by a bigger family, something actually worthy of interrupting him, or there would be severe consequences.
Still, a dark part of him recognised the silver lining to the situation. At least this interruption meant Cedric would have to lie there suffering even longer, needs unmet, anticipation building with every passing second while he wondered what new punishment he would be getting for talking shit like that.
Gianni would thoroughly enjoy watching him fall apart when he finally returned.
Win-win, really.
He yanked his pants up, fastening them with efficient movements despite his erection protesting. Then he leaned down to press a silencing kiss against Cedric's whining mouth.
"Stay quiet," Gianni ordered softly, his lips brushing Cedric's ear. "Don't make a sound. I'll handle this and be right back."
Cedric was still mostly naked, still blindfolded, still tied spread-eagled to the bedposts in a display that was obscene and beautiful and entirely his.
No one else got to see this particular sight. Gianni was far too possessive to share the vision of his toy broken and desperate with anyone, even his most trusted men.
So he moved to the door and cracked it open just enough to see who had the absolute audacity to disturb him, but not enough to reveal what was happening inside his bedroom.
What greeted him on the other side made his blood freeze, then immediately boil.
Il Macellaio stood in the hallway, his considerable bulk taking up far too much space. That always-red face was split in a happy grin that never reached his calculating eyes.
Behind him, a line of Gianni's own guards knelt on the floor, bloodied, beaten, hands zip-tied behind their backs like common criminals awaiting execution.
And beside Salvatore, swaying slightly in a tight red dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, was a tall blonde woman. The "gift" Gianni had reluctantly accepted hours ago just to avoid a shootout.
Gianni's mind went completely blank for exactly two seconds.
This wasn't protocol. This was never protocol. Yes, Salvatore was a disrespectful opportunist with more fat in his skull than functioning brain cells, but he'd always had enough basic survival instinct and respect not to pull something this phenomenally stupid.
How the hell had he gotten past the perimeter security? How had Gianni not heard the inevitable commotion?
With a grimace, he remembered he’d had his bedroom soundproofed because he preferred to keep the screams of his many conquests private, CEDRIC especially.
Yet, his estate had multiple layers of protection specifically designed to prevent exactly this kind of breach. So how…
The answers didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Il Macellaio was standing in his private hallway with armed men, having apparently beaten his way through Gianni's security like it was nothing.
"Gianni, my good friend!" Salvatore boomed, spreading his massive arms wide like they were old companions reuniting after years apart, even though it was merely a few hours.
"I wanted to deliver your gift personally! It's been far too long since I visited this beautiful home of yours. I thought, what better way to show my appreciation for our profitable partnership than with a personal touch, eh?"
His smile was all teeth beneath the fake warmth and friendliness “Look, I even brought some champagne. Something to drink will you make good use of Svetlana here?”
His grin stretched even wider as he gestured to the vintage bottle in his hand, and then to the Eastern European woman near him who was still picking nervously at her red-painted fingers.
Gianni's voice came out dangerously quiet, staying each word clearly so even he himself could understand it. "This is why you invaded my home uninvited? Beat my guards unconscious, and brought your armed thugs here without any warning or permission?"
He cast a sideways glare at the woman, who seemed to physically shrink under his attention, her icy blue eyes darting away from his to stare straight at the floor.
Her drugged haze wasn't quite enough to mask the primal fear that made her entire body shiver.
"Now, now, no need for such harsh words!" Salvatore waved a dismissive hand to brush away a meaningless concern. "Your boys put up a good fight, truly! But my men are simply better trained, you see?. No permanent damage, I assure you. And as for the lovely lady here…"
He gestured grandly toward the trembling blonde. "She's yours for the entire evening. Complimentary, of course. My personal gift to a valued business associate. I know how much you've been... occupied lately with other matters. I thought you might appreciate some professional “female” companionship."
The implication hung heavy in the air, everyone within earshot knew just what he meant by that.
Salvatore knew about Cedric. Of course, he knew. The whole underworld probably knew by now.
Gianni's hands moved before his mind could process the decision.
He stepped fully into the hallway, grabbed the bottle out of the intruder’s hand and brought it straight down on top of his head, smashing the bottle into a million pieces and sending aged wine splashing over the floors.
Then quick as lightning, while the other man was stunned with shock and pain, he wrapped both hands around Il Macellaio's thick neck and squeezed.
His face remained perfectly calm while he did it, his fingers dug into soft flesh and began applying methodical, increasing pressure.
He could kill this pig himself and be done with it tonight. Not tomorrow, not some other different time when he could find some other different way to irritate him, but now.
Salvatore's jovial expression transformed instantly. Shock first, then panic flooded his features as his pudgy hands came up to claw desperately at Gianni's wrists.
Bright red blood streamed down his face, blood mixed with wine, flowing from the huge gash at the top of his balding head where Gianni had struck him, mouth opened but could only produce a strangled wheeze.
"Aiuto!" he finally managed to gasp out, his face already turning an alarming shade of red. "Aiutatemi!"
The response was immediate and violent.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, Salvatore's men responding to their boss's distress call.
Warning shots rang out, deafening in the enclosed corridor, and a rain of bullets tore into the antique wood panelling that had been in Gianni's family for three generations, splintering the irreplaceable hand-carved details into worthless trash.
The woman in the red dress screamed and dropped into a crouch in the corner, hands over her head, sobbing incoherently.
“Please, please, please…” she begged over and over again under her breath.
Gianni's vision tinged red at the edges. The disrespect. The sheer audacity of this fat bastard bringing armed mercenaries into his ancestral home, terrorising his people, and now destroying priceless family heirlooms like they were disposable nothings.
He could handle this situation. He was certain of it. All he had to do was die.
Salvatore's face was already turning from red to purple, oxygen deprivation making his struggles progressively weaker.
Just a few more seconds and the problem would resolve itself permanently. Then Gianni's own reinforcements would arrive and systematically eliminate the rest of these invaders.
Just a few more seconds of pressure and—
Three of Salvatore's men reached the top of the stairs, weapons raised and trained directly on Gianni's head. Professional shooters, judging by their stance and grip. One wrong move and this would escalate into a full-scale gunfight.
More of Salvatore's guards were coming up behind them. Gianni could hear their boots, their shouted commands in Italian and Serbian.
The woman continued sobbing in her corner, mascara running in black streaks down her face.
Salvatore's pulse fluttered frantically beneath Gianni's palms like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape.
And somewhere in the distance, finally, Gianni heard his own security forces responding, boots pounding from other sections of the estate, voices shouting orders, the distinctive sound of weapons being readied.
Too little. Too late.
But Gianni could still salvage this. Salvatore was seconds from unconsciousness. His men wouldn't dare fire and risk hitting their boss. Gianni just needed to maintain pressure for a few more…
"Gianni?"
The voice came from inside the bedroom. Muffled by the door but clear enough to cut through everything else.
"What's going on out there? I'm scared."