Chapter 9

VICENZO’S PoV

The way Bianca shouted her question sent ripples through me. Her audacity seemed to be growing by the minute and I was pissed off. The limo had grown quiet but it wasn’t peaceful.

It was the kind of silence that pressed down, thick and heavy, waiting to snap. I didn’t say anything. Just sat there, let it stretch. Ten long seconds. I could feel Mateo’s eyes flicker toward me, then away. He knew. He was waiting. He could tell that I was pissed off. I flexed my fists just to calm myself and tried to take sharp breaths. Bianca wasn’t stupid.

I sucked my teeth loudly, the sharp sound cutting through the air. “Watch your tone.” It was a simple sentence but I hoped it would deliver the rage I was feeling fully to Bianca.

Bianca’s scoff was instant, sharp and dismissive. “Oh, fuck off, Vincenzo. You let that manipulative bitch walk back into your life and I’m supposed to stay quiet? She’s playing you like she always has…how the fuck does she have a child? How so convenient…”

I didn’t stop her.

She kept going, words tumbling out, voice rising, hands moving, her anger spilling over. I let her talk. I let her dig her own grave because if I let my rage overwhelm me, I was sure I would do something I would regret.

Bianca didn’t take the hint though. She failed to understand that my silence wasn’t a sign that I was okay with her ramblings so I shifted forward and faced her squarely in the face.

Slow. Deliberate.

She went silent.

Her back pressed against the seat, her eyes wide, lips parted, breath quick. I could see the way her chest rose and fell, rapid, panicked. She finally knew I wasn’t joking.

“Shut the fuck up you bitch.” My voice was calm, but it carried weight. “Or I’ll throw you out of the fucking car, I swear it.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

I leaned back and exhaled slowly. “We’re about to meet Bianchi in what is most likely a violent showdown and the last thing I need is your jealous whining in my ear.”

“Vicenzo…”

“I said shut the hell up Bianca! Jesus!” I shouted as she trembled. “I do not want to hear another fucking word about your stupid feelings about Rosalinda. She is back and you are going to have to deal with it. Do you understand me?”

She didn’t say another word.

“Good,” I muttered under my breath. Bianca was good company but she was exhausting and I hated when I had to get angry with her. I hated how I was feeling right now. Hated that I fucking cared about Rosa.

I knocked twice on the divider, and the driver pressed the gas. The city blurred past us, then faded. Buildings turned to warehouses. Streets turned empty. The kind of place where problems got handled.

Headlights glowed ahead, lined up, waiting. Bianchi’s men.

The car rolled to a stop in perfect synchronization with the cars of my men. No one spoke. It was a showdown. My hand trembled slightly. I didn’t want to die here tonight. Not before I fucked Rosalinda Amato.

I stepped out, the cool night air hitting me, thick with the scent of asphalt and gasoline. Across from me, Bianchi’s cars were lined up in a perfect row, black and sleek. Doors opened in sync. His men got out, stiff and ready.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a cigar and let it rest between my lips.

Mateo was already there with the lighter and stuck it out to me, the flame flickering as I inhaled deep and let the heat fill my lungs. I exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around me as I stepped forward and sauntered towards the enemy’s line. As I walked, all I could think of was Rosa’s soft skin and the way she moaned against my ears. It would be a shame to not taste the warmth of her breast in my mouth again.

Bianchi met me in the middle. He looked rough and smelled strongly of cheap beer.

His suit was pressed, tailored, but it didn’t make him look sharp. Just desperate. His men stood behind him, tense, hands resting near their holsters. Bianchi was out for war and I doubted that we could reach a settlement. I thought of my father’s words in the letter that Bianca had handed to me.

He wanted me to give this to you personally.

My papa was not the kind of man that backed down from a war. Face him Vic, you must show no sign of fear.

I stopped a few feet away, head tilting slightly. “Bianchi, there’s no need for you to die here tonight. Back the fuck down.” My voice was quiet. Calm. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Bianchi let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You humiliated me, Vincenzo. And if anyone will die here tonight, it is going to be you.”

I kept my expression flat. “You put your hands on my woman…”

Something flickered in his eyes. It was amusement.

“Your woman?” He dragged out the words like they tasted good in his mouth. “You let your woman dance in a strip club, Don Moretti?”

I turned away, took a single step.

Then I turned back and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot split the night, loud, final.

Bianchi staggered back, hands flying to his stomach, eyes wide with shock. Blood bloomed across his suit, dark and spreading. Then the chaos started.

Gunfire exploded from every direction.

Men shouted, bullets ripping through the air. I moved fast, ducking behind a car as Mateo and the others opened fire, taking out anyone who got too close. The scent of gunpowder filled my lungs, sharp and metallic.

I fired back, hitting one of Bianchi’s men square in the chest. He dropped instantly, but another took his place.

Then pain coursed through me; sharp and burning.

My shoulder jerked back as the bullet tore through, hot and brutal. I gritted my teeth, forced myself to stay upright, adrenaline pushing me forward.