TWO

SANTINO POV

The car pulled into the old warehouse lot. Judging by the broken windows and rusted signage, the place hadn’t seen use in years which made it ideal for what we were about to do.

When the vehicle rolled to a stop, I opened the door of the rental and stepped out. Luca followed suit, moving straight to pop the trunk.

The kid was dragged out and dumped onto the cracked concrete, collapsing in a heap, limbs tangled, clothes wrinkled and cheap.

My men had grabbed the little b*st*rd sneaking out her bedroom window at dawn.

I looked him over, trying to figure out what she could possibly see in this mess.

Dio! Anastasia was too beautiful for a rough and Haggard looking boy like him.

She was breathtaking. Every whispered rumor about her beauty had been the truth. All three Mancini sisters had inherited their looks from their mother.

Caterina Mancini, once a face that graced international fashion magazines, was a legend before she ever married Salvatore.

I remember jerking off to her photos as a teenage boy and Anastasia was the spitting image of her mother, except with bigger t*ts.

Dio, how I would love to f*ck those t*ts.

Stop. She's marrying your son.

Angry at my inappropriate thoughts, I transferred that fury onto the man on the ground. "So you are the boyfriend."

His frightened eyes darted between me and my men. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

I nodded at Luca, who gave the boy a swift kick in the ribs. "I ask the questions," I said when the boy caught his breath. "And I want to know if you f*ck*d her."

The boy's brows rose. "What?"

After another kick from Luca, the boy wheezed for two full minutes. I sighed. "Liam, I grow weary. Just tell me if you have f*ck*d her."

"Wait, are you talking about Anastasia?"

Luca lifted his leg to kick again, but Liam held up his hands. "Stop, stop. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Finally, I bent and looked him in the eye. "Did. You. F*ck. My. Son's. Fiancée?"

My tone seemed to impart the gravity of the situation on Liam. His brows flew up and he started babbling.

“I… I.. I didn't know she was getting married. I'm sorry. She never told me. I would never have had anything to do with her if I knew she was getting married. You have to believe me.”

"How long, Liam?"

He licked his lips. "We've been seeing each other for seven months."

I rose and gestured to Luca, then put my hands on my hips. Seven months this brutto figlio di puttana bastardo had been putting his d*ck in her.

Cazzo, what had Mancini been thinking, letting his incredibly hot daughter loose on the streets of Toronto?

Luca put some effort behind this kick and Liam curled up in a tiny ball, gasping. "Please, no more," he begged. "I think you broke a rib."

I exchanged an amused look with Luca. We both knew he'd been holding back. "Get him up," I ordered.

They both grabbed him, shaking him roughly as they made him stand on his feet. The kid groaned, head hanging low, so I grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look at me.

“Listen carefully. Forget she exists. If she contacts you—today, tomorrow, a year from now—ignore her. If you don’t, I'll order my men to have you skinned while you are alive. Am I understood?”

He was shaking, and the smell of urine filled the air.

Damn! Was he soaking his jeans? “Are we clear?” I repeated.

Liam nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“Good.” I stepped back toward the car. “Leave him.”

I heard him collapse as I opened the door. My two men, Luca and Enzo, who were cousins, got in and we all drove off leaving Liam stranded in the middle of nowhere to figure himself out.

I kept rubbing my jaw, looking out the window.

Mancini had clearly let his daughter run wild. She’d probably been with half the city by now.

Did I care?

Even in Siderno, the old insistence on a bride’s virginity was dying. The bloody sheets ritual was nearly extinct.

My wedding, twenty years ago, had followed every tradition meant to bring luck.

Yet my bride died within five years, leaving a young son behind. No luck—just heartache and regret.

I never loved Isabella. We’d been young; the marriage was a deal with the Lombardo ‘ndrina.

I thought she accepted her role tolerating my long absences and the mistress I kept in town. It was the way of our world.

Nico was born after the first year, and I assumed there’d be more kids. Foolish. Naive to think the violence wouldn’t touch my family.

“You think Nico’s going to like her?” Luca asked. “He wasn’t happy you were picking his bride.”

“Nico will marry whoever I say.” Not like I had the slightest idea of what my son's type was. He never shared his worries or happiness. He got that from me.

But who wouldn’t want Anastasia Mancini?

And it didn’t matter. This marriage would bind our families and settle a debt. A win-win.

Luca glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. “Back to the hotel?”

“For a bit. But she’ll run, so we need to be ready.” Mancini had spoiled his daughters with too much freedom, no discipline.

The way Anastasia spoke to her father and me?

She didn’t know her place.

I almost envied my son’s job of taming her.

I liked women with fire. They were more fun in bed, and breaking a strong woman always got me hard.

Enzo turned around. “You think she’ll run?”

A cunning smile formed on my lips. “Oh, you can bet on it. But we’ll be waiting. Tell the pilot we leave today.”