Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

It’s official. I hate girls’ night out.

Contrary to what Bianca thought, I didn’t have a meeting in Atlantic City. I was about to suggest a dinner date when she informed me that Sera had organized a night on the town. I wanted to tell her to decline the invitation, but she and Divina had worked so hard on the Rossi mansion and getting the accounts back into shape, we were finally getting a bead on the family’s finances.

So here I was in one of the exclusive sections of Cardo, sitting at one of the high-tops, watching the dance floor on the first floor. I hated I couldn’t see Bianca clearly, but at least I could make her out in the crowd.

I brought the drink to my lips and took a sip of whiskey. I’d been busy growing the construction stream of business and paying the New York Albanians a visit. Once word had gotten out that the Rossis and De Luccis were in a truce, they scattered. The ones we caught denied being involved in the club fire and shooting up Jabbin’ Java. I executed the man who instigated the ambush the night Al got shot. I also let Al take care of the man who shot him.

I was so consumed with getting the organization’s interests in order, it took me a few days to notice the change in Bianca. She always had a ready smile for me and was the perfect wife who I loved coming home to. Or if we had dinner with an associate, she was the perfect partner. At the end of the night, we had sex. Several rounds. I loved being buried inside her, and my addiction for her had only grown stronger. But something was nagging at me, especially in the last week. Her smiles didn’t reach her eyes anymore. Frozen fake smiles.

Peripheral movement caught my attention.

Fuck.

“Look who’s here.” Dominic De Lucci dropped into a seat beside me and set a bottle of top-shelf whiskey on the table. “I should have made a bet with Matteo and Nico after I heard the girls were coming here.”

“And why is that?”

“They can’t stand it when their women are having fun without them.”

“That’s not the case with me,” I told him confidently and finished my drink. He refilled my tumbler. “Where’s Matteo and Nico anyway?”

“They’re arriving soon. Just to let you know, whenever the girls are out on the town, they’re lurking not too far from them.”

“But Trevor is with the women.”

“You have Al and Miller on Bianca, and yet you’re here.”

“I want her to let off some steam.” I studied the amber liquid in my glass. “I grit my teeth when she has to deal with my side of the family.”

“Bianca is stronger than you think. She has both the McGrath and De Lucci genes in her.”

“Heard her grandpa and uncle were quite the De Lucci enforcers back in the day.”

“The Fighting McGraths. Red Cillian is a legend. I have all the faith in my cousin,” Dom said. “She may be the pampered daughter of Cesar De Lucci, but in time she’ll adjust.”

The guilt of forcing her into a marriage hadn’t gone away, but I figured once I’d given her the proper wedding she deserved, it would slowly erase the nightmare of the first one.

My eyes narrowed on the dance floor. Some punk was harassing Bianca. I rose slowly from my seat to peer closer.

“Shit,” Dom said, following my eyes. He got up and walked away.

I called Al.

He didn’t even say hello. “Boss, we’re on it.” And ended the call.

I resisted the urge to call him again and texted him.

Dom returned to me. “My security will escort the guy out.”

“No,” I told him. “I want a word with him.”

“Dammit.”

“Boss to boss, you think we’d let someone simply be escorted out after he harasses one of our women?”

He gave a measured sigh and was about to type in his phone again when he muttered, “Fuck.”

“What?” Rage was an insidious feeling I kept in check, but it was a tinderbox when the safety of Bianca was in question.

“That’s Trevor.” He paused for a few seconds, rolling his lips. I could see him choosing his words carefully, and it only fueled my impatience.

“What?” I repeated.

“Bianca doesn’t want you to know about the incident.”

I checked my phone. No text from Al or Miller.

Damn you, Bianca.

Belatedly, I noted that Dom hadn’t finished talking. “And…?”

“You need to calm down.”

Fucker. He knew that was the last thing he should say, and he was just trying to get me worked up.

“What. Happened?”

“Bianca twisted her ankle when the asshole tried to stop her from leaving the dance floor.”

I didn’t wait for him to say more and strode past him. “Someone’s dying tonight.”

“Dammit, Rossi.” Dom caught up with me and kept stride with me toward the elevators.

I stopped short of calling the cars and faced him. “Give me an alternative. But I’m getting my hands on that prick. Tell Trevor to find out everything on that guy.”

“You don’t give me or my men orders, Rossi,” Dom warned.

I invaded his space and that was when the elevator doors slid open.

“What the fuck?” Matteo and Nico said at the same time.

“What’s going on?” Nico asked.

“Someone harassed Bianca on the dance floor, and Sandro wants that someone’s head to roll,” Dom said.

Matteo and Nico both checked their phones.

“Is that why our wives are not responding to us?” Matteo mused.

“They’re probably deciding how to keep their stories straight so Sandro here won’t have to kill someone,” Dom said with amusement, as if he was used to dealing with this.

“Wrong thing to say.” The restlessness in my fingers needled for action. “I want that man in a room.”

“Jesus,” Matteo muttered. “We’re doing mob justice here?”

“What would you do if a fucker harassed Sera on the dance floor and, when she tried to leave the situation, dragged her back and she hurt her ankle?”

“I’d kill him.”

I crossed my arms since I made my point.

“Wait, Smurfette wouldn’t take that lying down,” Nico said.

Dom was chuckling while he was typing on the phone. “Nope. She kneed him in the groin. According to my security guy, that man asked for ice after he left the dance floor.”

“Let him suffer.” I was losing patience. “Where to?”

“Basement,” Dom said.

Zachary Hellman was an investment banker. He was twenty-eight years old, with a salary of three hundred grand a year. Not shabby for making the move from a tiny Indiana town to a midsize Manhattan investment firm. He had also developed a cocaine problem. We found a baggie on him. It was a problem typical of these high-strung financial types I’d seen at my club.

He was not high tonight. He was simply high on making loads of money for a client, which meant he was on track to make a hundred percent of his salary in bonuses this year. Unfortunately, that rush made him think he could hit on any woman.

Right now, his hands were tied behind a chair and he was mouthing off.

“I told the bouncer I was just having fun. She seemed willing.”

“Willing? She kneed you in the groin.”

“She was playing hard to get.”

I leaned forward. “I think you’re lying to me, Zachary Hellman.”

His eyes widened when I said his name. Then they turned shifty. “If you want, I’ll apologize to that chick. Happy now?”

“That chick…” I gritted. “Happens to be my wife.”

“She didn’t say she was married.”

An overwhelming urge to cut off this liar’s tongue had my fists clenching. I’d reviewed the footage of the dance floor. “I don’t know what IQ level you have, but if a woman waves her ring finger in your face and that diamond is hard to miss, it usually means she’s spoken for.”

“I’m sorry. Bring her here, and I’ll apologize to her on my knees,” he said with all the sleaziness of a used-car salesman.

I grabbed his hair and leaned in closer. “I don’t want you breathing her air.”

His eyes widened as if finally realizing the gravity of his situation. “What…what do you want?”

I straightened and stepped back. “I’m giving you a choice.” I took out my revolver and a knife and laid them on a table beside us. “You can play one round of Russian roulette. Or I can cut off a piece of you. A finger maybe? Or your lying tongue?” I looked over to where Dom and the De Lucci brothers were standing. “Can they reattach a tongue?”

“I think so,” Nico answered as if we were having a normal conversation and not talking about dismemberment. “I know they can reattach a dick.”

“Oh God, oh God. What’s wrong with you people?” All the color had leeched off Zachary’s face, and he started crying.

“You messed with the wrong woman, but I’ll give you another choice. You fight me. No weapons, just fists.”

“My wife is pregnant,” he blurted out. “And I have a two-year-old son.”

I sighed heavily. “I know. And that’s why I’m giving you choices. I should kill you outright because you know what else I hate? Cheaters. I’d do your wife a favor and get rid of you, but I’m hoping I can teach you a lesson.”

He started sobbing in earnest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I looked at Dom. “Release him.”

Dom gave a shake of his head and cut his ties.

Zachary glanced warily at me and then at the door.

“Please don’t do it,” I muttered.

He jumped up and ran for the exit. Of course, it was locked. He pounded on it. “Help me! Help me! These men are crazy.”

He was so ridiculously pathetic, I lost sight of my anger for a split second. But I remembered what this asshole did to Bianca and just the fact that he did this while he had a family waiting for him at home made me see red again.

“Zachary,” I called.

He was plastered against the door, not wanting to face me.

He might get to live tonight but he’d landed a spot on my hit list. I’d be checking in on him from time to time, maybe even get him to do some laundering for the family.

I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Then I let my fury fly.