11

The metallic smell of blood and the violent rush of adrenaline were too much for her senses. Rosa’s stomach violently churned, and before she could even process his shouting, she leaned forward and threw up right onto the floor of the luxury SUV.

Giovanni’s furious expression fractured for a fraction of a second, a flash of raw concern piercing through his anger before his jaw locked tight again.

"I can't believe you killed them," Rosa choked out, wiping her mouth with the back of a trembling hand, tears blurring her vision. "You just... you shot them like they were nothing."

"They were drug traffickers, cara!" Giovanni roared back, his voice echoing off the leather interior. "How could you fall for their antics?! In my world, you either kill or be killed!"

He cut himself off, his chest heaving as he stared out the window, gripping his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. He couldn't even finish his sentence. The anger burning inside him wasn't just about the trap—it was the terrifying realization that he had *just* gotten her back, only to almost lose her immediately because of a low-level setup. The thought of her dead or captured made him want to burn the entire city to the ground.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the car. Slowly, Giovanni's breathing evened out, the blind rage receding into a dark, brooding simmer.

"I really shouldn't have yelled at you," he muttered, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register. He didn't look at her, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable. "But I was pissed. And you don't ever want to cross me when I'm pissed."

Rosa lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she stared down at her lap. "Of course," she mumbled to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "I see that."

Hearing the sheer terror in her voice seemed to crack something inside the ruthless Don. Giovanni turned his head, his dark eyes softening just a fraction as he looked at her slumped, trembling form.

"I will never hurt you, Rosalia," he said, the vow surprisingly quiet, yet heavier than any threat he had made before. "I'll take you to the villa now so you can wash up and relax."

The rest of the ride was completely silent.

Rosa kept her face turned firmly toward the side window, staring blankly at the passing scenery, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Giovanni sat beside her like a dark shadow, his eyes occasionally burning into the side of her face. He kept hoping that her gaze would wander, that their eyes would meet from time to time just so he could gauge what she was thinking—but he got absolutely nothing from her. She froze him out completely.

Finally, Felix pulled the heavy SUV through the massive, reinforced iron gates of the De Luca villa. The car glided up the long, stone-paved driveway, coming to a smooth stop right in front of the grand entrance.

Felix quickly got out and opened the rear door. Giovanni stepped out first, adjusting his jacket before turning back to the open door. He stretched his large, calloused hand out to Rosa, waiting for her to take it so he could help her down.

Rosa looked at his hand, then up at his face, and deliberately ignored him, turning her body to climb out on her own.

Giovanni’s patience, already razor-thin from the morning's chaos, officially snapped. He wasn't having it anymore.

Before she could even plant her feet on the ground, Giovanni stepped into her space, scooped his arms under her knees and back, and effortlessly hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her like a bride.

"Giovanni! Put me down!" she gasped, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders for balance.

Giovanni ignored her entirely, his face a mask of absolute authority as he marched up the grand marble steps of the villa. Dozens of maids, guards, and estate servants were stationed around the entrance, and they all froze, their eyes widening in shock. The fearsome Don—who never touched anyone, let alone allowed a woman into his inner sanctum—was carrying a disheveled, terrified girl through the front doors.

As they passed, a wave of hurried whispers broke out among the staff.

"Who is that?"

*Who is she?"

"Did the Don bring home a captive?"

Giovanni didn't care about the stares or the murmurs. He just tightened his grip on Rosa, carrying his claimed prize straight into his empire.

Giovanni kicked open the double doors to a massive, beautifully decorated guest suite, completely ignoring Rosa’s quiet protests as he finally set her down on the edge of a plush velvet armchair.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice clipped and leaving no room for argument.

He turned on his heel and walked out to the landing, calling out into the hallway. "Selena!"

Within seconds, a middle-aged woman with a sharp but kind face and her hair pulled into a neat, elegant bun appeared. Selena was the head of the maids, but to anyone in the inner circle, she was the closest thing Giovanni had to a mother figure. She was one of the very few people in the world who could look the ruthless Don in the eye without flinching.

"Yes, Giovanni?" Selena asked, her eyes darting past his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the trembling girl in the armchair.

Giovanni stepped closer, his jaw tight, the terrifying protective instinct from the airport still rolling off him in waves.

"Take care of her," Giovanni commanded, gesturing back toward the room. "Draw a bath. Clean her up. And Selena..." He leaned in, his dark eyes flashing with a deadly, unyielding seriousness. "If there is just a little spot left on her, you will pay for it. I want her completely taken care of. Understood?"

Selena didn't blink at the threat. She knew him too well.