King of Wrath (Kings of Sin)

DANTE

“This better be important.” I put my phone on speaker and shrugged off my jacket. “This is the first damn break I’ve had since I landed.”

My trip to San Francisco had been a whirlwind of meetings, photo ops, and dealing with people whose heads were so far up their asses they’d require surgery to see daylight.

I’d barely slept in the past forty-eight hours, but we were finally closing the deal with Franco Santeri in two hours.

Until then, I wanted to shower, eat, and, if I was lucky, grab some shuteye for five minutes.

“It is. There was an attempted robbery at the Lohman & Sons flagship store in New York.” Giulio, my head of corporate security in North America, cut straight to the chase. He was one of Christian’s men, but he’d worked for me for so long he answered directly to me instead of Christian.

“We apprehended the perpetrators before they escaped. They’re currently in our custody.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“One of the security guards was knocked unconscious and has a concussion. Other than that, no, sir.”

“Good. Take care of it the way we usually do. Make it clean.”

There hadn’t been an attempted robbery of a Russo Group property in two years, but fools were born every day.

I kept to the right side of the law when it came to finances and boardroom dealings. But when it came to people who tried to steal from me? I had no qualms about making an example out of them.

Shattered bones and blood. They were a universally understood language.

“Of course,” Giulio said. “But, ah, that’s not all.”

I checked the time, my patience running thin after a three-hour bullshit meeting on projections that could’ve been an email. “Get to the point, Giulio.”

There was a short pause before he said, “Your fiancée was in the store at the time of the attempted robbery.”

My hand stilled on the clasp of my watch. “Vivian was in the store?”

“Yes, sir. She was shopping and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Blood roared in my ears, and a sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. “How is she?”

“She’s shaken up. One of the robbers held her at gunpoint when she was too slow getting on the ground, but our men neutralized the situation before she was hurt.” Giulio coughed. “Your brother was there as well. He was on shift today, and he was the one who secretly called for backup.”

All our employees at high-risk locations like jewelry stores wore custom watches with disguised panic buttons. It had been Christian’s idea.

Criminals expected panic buttons under a desk or near the register; they didn’t expect it on a watch, which was both discreet and easier to access.

But I wasn’t thinking about the effectiveness of our security protocol right now.

One of the robbers held her at gunpoint.

Blackness snuffed out my vision. When it returned a split second later, rage drenched the room in crimson.

“Where are they now?” My voice was tight. Controlled. At complete odds with the bloody images of retribution playing out in my mind.

“Ms. Vivian is at the penthouse, and Mr. Luca is at his home in Greenwich Villa.”

My jaw ticked. My brother was like Teflon when it came to life-and-death situations. He once got mugged in L.A., took a nap, and spent the same night partying it up with half of Young Hollywood.

Vivian, on the other hand…

The sick feeling spread, clawing at my insides like it was seeking escape.

“I’ll have the full report in your inbox within the next hour,” Giulio said. “Is there anything else you need from me at this time?”

“The one who held Vivian at gunpoint? Leave him for me.”

Another pause. “Of course.”

I hung up, my earlier exhaustion and hunger hardening into a ball of restless energy.

I really fucking wished there was a boxing ring at the hotel. If I didn’t release the anger choking me, I would implode.

An image of Vivian’s face surfaced in my mind.

Pale skin. Dark eyes wide with fear. Bright red blood staining her clothes.

If backup hadn’t arrived on time…

My gut twisted into a painful knot.

She was safe. Giulio wouldn’t lie about that. But until I saw her myself…

I paced the room and scrubbed a hand over my face. I’d spent the past year putting the Santeri deal together. I couldn’t fuck it up. Plus, I was flying home tomorrow morning anyway. Half a day wouldn’t make a difference.

Vivian was at home. She was fine.

My pacing continued. The clock ticked toward the quarter of the hour.

Dammit.

A string of curses flew past my lips as I grabbed my jacket with one hand and dialed my assistant with the other on my way out the door.

“There’s an emergency in New York. Call the Santeri team and have them meet me in the hotel conference room in thirty minutes. Tell them the rest of their stay is on the Russo Group and send Franco the limited-edition Lohman & Sons watch as an apology. The one that’s not coming out until next year.”

The CEO of Santeri Wines was a notorious horophile who collected forty-thousand-dollar timepieces the way kids collected baseball cards.

Helena didn’t miss a beat. “Consider it done.”

Franco had an ego bigger than his Napa Valley ranch. He was pissed about the last-minute summons, as expected, but the apology gifts mollified him enough for him to sign the acquisition deal without much complaint.

Santeri Wines, one of the most valuable wine brands on the market, was officially a Russo Group subsidiary.

Instead of celebrating, I said my goodbyes and cut a straight path from the conference room to the car waiting outside.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

“SFO.” San Francisco Airport. I’d left without my luggage, but Helena would take care of that for me. “I need to return to New York immediately.”

VIVIAN

I couldn’t stop shivering. I stepped out of the bathroom, my skin ice cold despite my bathrobe, the heated floors, and the hot bath I’d soaked in for the past hour.

It was late evening, hours after the attempted Lohman & Sons robbery, but I was still stuck on the showroom floor with a gun under my chin and evil staring back at me.

The entire incident had lasted less than ten minutes before backup security arrived and neutralized the situation.

No one got hurt, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what-ifs.

What if backup had arrived a minute too late?

What if the robber had shot first and asked questions later?

What if I’d died? What would I have to show for it except a closet full of nice clothes and a life spent doing the “right thing?”

I would’ve died without visiting the Atacama Desert for stargazing or falling in love more than once.

Things I’d always thought I would have time to do because I was only in my late twenties, dammit, and I was supposed to be invincible at this age.

The faint slam of the front door saved me from my thoughts, but my heart skittered with trepidation.

Who was here? Dante wouldn’t be home until tomorrow, and the staff was already indoors. Even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t slam the door like that.

My trepidation heightened when the sound of footsteps grew louder and the door to my bedroom flung open.

I grabbed a vase off my dresser, ready to throw it at the intruder until I registered the dark hair and hard, unforgiving face.

“Dante?” My heart gradually slowed as I set the vase down. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow. What are…”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence before he crossed the room in two long strides and gripped my arms.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded. He scanned me from head to toe, his expression tight.

What …the robbery. Of course. He was the CEO. Someone must’ve told him what happened.

“I’m fine. A little shaken, but fine.” I forced a smile. “You’re supposed to be in California until tomorrow. What are you doing home early?”

“There was an attempted robbery at one of my flagship stores, Vivian.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Of course I came back right away.”

“But the Santeri deal…”

“Is closed.” His iron grip remained on my arms, strong yet gentle.

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The day had been surreal, made all the more surreal by Dante’s sudden appearance.

It was only then that I noticed his rumpled shirt and tousled hair, like he’d been running his fingers through it.

For some reason, the visual made my eyes blur with tears. It was too human, too normal for a day like today.

Dante’s fingers tightened around me. “Be honest, Vivian,” he said, the words somehow both comforting and commanding. “Are you okay?”

Not are you hurt, but are you okay? Two different questions.

Pressure built inside me, but I nodded.

His eyes were a dark storm, his face etched with lines of anger and panic. At my response, skepticism joined the mix, soft but visible.

“He held you at gunpoint,” he said, his voice lower. Tauter. Promising retribution.

The pressure pushed against my eardrums, an invisible force dragging me deep beneath a turbulent ocean.

My smile wobbled. “Yes. Not the…” I eased a deep breath past my tightening lungs. Don’t cry. “Not the highlight of my week, I must admit.”

Dante’s body vibrated with tension. It lined his jaw and coiled beneath his skin, like a viper waiting to strike.

“Did he do anything else?”

I shook my head. Oxygen thinned by the second, making each word difficult, but I pushed forward. “Security got there before anyone was hurt.

“I’m okay. Really.” The last word pitched higher than the rest.

The muscle in his jaw ticked again. “You’re shaking.”

Was I? I checked. Yes, I was.

Tiny trembles rippled through my body. My knees quaked; goosebumps peppered my arms. If it weren’t for the warmth and strength of Dante’s hold, I might’ve collapsed on the floor.

I noted these things with detachment, like I was watching myself in a film I wasn’t particularly invested in.

“It’s the cold,” I said. I didn’t know who turned on the air-conditioning in November, but my room was a meat locker.

Dante stroked my skin with his thumb. Concern pooled in his eyes.

“The heat is on, mia cara, ” he said softly.

The pressure expanded to my throat.

“Well, then, it must be broken.” I rambled on, my string of useless words the only thread holding me together. “You should get it fixed. I’m sure you could get someone here soon. You’re…” Something wet trickled down my cheeks. “You’re Dante Russo. You can…” I couldn’t breathe properly. Air. I need air. “You can do anything.”

My voice cracked.

One crack. That was all it took.

The thread snapped, and I broke down, sobs wracking my body as the emotion and trauma of the day overwhelmed me.

The high of the Legacy Ball news followed by the terror of the robbery.

The thud of heavy boots against the marble floors in that cold, stark room.

The metal against my skin and the unshakeable sense, that if I died today, I’d do so without ever having lived. Not as Vivian Lau. Not as me.

Dante’s arms wrapped around me. He didn’t speak, but his embrace was so strong and reassuring it erased any self-consciousness I might’ve had.

The turbulent waters closed overhead, drowning out the light.

They tossed me back and forth until my body shook from the force of my cries. My stomach hurt, my eyes ached, and my throat was so raw it hurt to breathe.

And still, Dante held me.

I pressed my face against his chest, my shoulders heaving while he rubbed a hand over my back. He murmured something in Italian, but I couldn’t decipher what he said.

All I knew was, in the icy aftermath of the robbery, his voice and embrace were the only things keeping me warm.