Chapter 116 Front Row
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
I leaned against my Camaro with a cigarette between my fingers, trying not to jump in the car and track her down myself.
She wouldn’t want that. Not after I’d shaken her world and rocked it clean off its orbit.
Instead, I’d discreetly sent soldiers after her to make sure she was okay. She didn’t need to see me right now. Maybe not ever.
I thought I’d been ready to see and handle the look on her face when I finally told her what she wanted to hear.
But I hadn’t been ready. Not even close.
The shock. The grief. The betrayal.
All of it had flashed painfully across her face, making me realize that Rosa felt deeply, and didn’t have anyone. She had been so hung up on trying to please ghosts to keep herself busy and distracted from her reality. She was lonely and needed help that she was too stubborn to ask for.
I clenched my fist, throwing the cigar to the ground.
I snuffed the heat out with the heel of my boot as rage and frustration bundled up in my chest. I wanted to be with her. I needed to.
But she wouldn’t want the man who’d handed her the worst news of her life, who’d been in the front row seat for every hardship she’d ever faced.
Boots shuffled on asphalt. Walter stepped up, holding a tablet, guns strapped low at his hips.
He nodded with a respectful posture. “Don.”
He handed me the tablet. I took it, my fingers brushing over the cold glass.
“She’s moving again. She left the Emerald.” Walter said carefully.
I froze. She left? Just like that? My mind ran ahead with the possibilities. Could she have gone to the Grand Marlow?
But then I watched the tracker feed, to see that her car didn’t turn toward the hotel.
It veered toward a cluster of private estates. My grip tightened on the tablet until my knuckles whitened. Heat burned in my chest. She was going to Dominic.
The thought made my rage spike. Could there be something going on between them? Dominic obviously hadn’t learned his last lesson. But… maybe she was just going to confirm what I told her.
Dominic wouldn’t know though, he wasn’t privy to that kind of information. She’d leave with nothing, and then I’d see where she’d go next. Or maybe she was trying to find out who got the hotel. Or both.
I smiled almost unconsciously. It was cute, and endearing, the way she never backed down. Always giving herself something to chase.
My chest warmed in the cold night air.
I loved every stubborn, wild, and impossible part of her. She deserved someone who worships her, protects her… someone who could be a home for her, always.
I was going to be that someone.
I handed the tablet back to Walter just as Adrian came up to lean against the Camaro, his face tight.
“I should tell Julianna about what happened. Rosa might need someone.”
I gave him a sharp look. “Don’t. It'll just complicate everything further. And don’t worry about her. I’ll reach her before she breaks.”
He frowned. “Didn’t she just break down?” He pinned me with an incredulous look. “I don’t think now is the time to give her space. You need to bring her back before she does something… unwise.”
I glared, making him flinch. He bowed his head in immediate apology.
“You know your wife is emotional. I’m only saying this out of caution.”
I leaned back a little, letting his words sink in.
“Sweet. But she’s my wife, so I know her best. She went to Dominic. Right now she’s avoiding feeling anything and chasing a lead of her own as a distraction. Tomorrow, I’ll go to her.”
Adrian nodded, resigned. I pushed off the car and cracked my knuckles.
“Suit up. It’s time to handle the serpent scum.”
A murderous spark lit his eyes, and I knew he didn’t need more convincing. He left to grab the weapons.
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Club Lux pulsed with desire and vice as sweaty, dancing bodies parted for us. I walked through the pulsing lights, marveling at how audacious certain people could be.
Adrian had tracked Giannis Sanchez here, in my club, of all places. The nerve.
The man had spilled blood on my floors and kidnapped my wife. And I kept asking myself what he’d promised Rosa to make her keep her mouth shut.
I shelved the question away for later.
We moved up the VIP corridor. My men slid through the crowd, surgically clearing the way around us. The air shifted subtly with the promise of violence.
Giannis caught sight of me the second we hit the booths. He reached for his gun with stupid confidence, just as red dots bloomed on the foreheads of each and every one of his men.
They froze halfway through the action.
I stopped in front of him. My hands remained tucked in my pockets in a deceptively laid back gesture.
He tilted his chin up at me, more sneer than smile.
“Marino,” he spat, his voice venomous.
In response, I slid my gun out, my aim steady.
The shot was clean.
He slumped, a wet scream stuck in the back of his throat.
Two of his men jerked forward to protect him, but my boys answered with bullets that ended them before they could even make a difference.
The rest stayed frozen, suddenly very aware that their life was a fragile luxury tonight.
One knee down.
I was about to finish the job, the other knee, when Adrian came up behind me.
“You owe me,” he said.
Time after time I’d left Adrian out of the fun, either accidentally or selfishly. It made sense that he was feeling left out. But this fucker touched what was mine.
“Sorry, but this one's personal.”
Adrian stepped back without comment.
Giannis grunted and sputtered, his words slurring in pain. “You fucked up. Hijo de puta!” he managed. “You’re going to fucking die…” his threat dissolved into a rasp.
“That’s a risk I take every day,” I said frankly.
I put the second bullet where it needed to be.
He screamed then, a slew of colorful curses leaving his mouth. I whipped the pistol across his temple hard. The loud whack left him slumped and groaning.
“Bring him back to the compound. So we can discuss better.” I told the nearest man.
My mind went to the torture room at the house.
It had gone unused for far too long.
Time to paint my floors.