3| Shake Hands.

LAZZARO VISCONTI

That woman had caught my attention in an instant, and I couldn’t help but go find out who she was—something I had never done before. Women came to me, longed for me to fuck them, and not the other way around. But Alma? She was different.

I was getting disturbingly attracted to her until I found out that she was a Martelli—a family I had longed to wipe out. Ten years ago, my family and hers had a terrible feud, causing the death of several members from both sides. My father had died as a result, leaving me with the responsibilities of a mob boss at seventeen. I never forgave those responsible for his death, and I had vowed to wipe out the entire family when the time came.

Reports came to me that Zita Martelli was the only Martelli who had died in the attack earlier, and I had almost had a hard-on at that wonderful news. I didn’t know who had launched the attack, as I had only spotted it just before it occurred, but I had been grateful to them for taking only the bride.

Lamberto Martelli, Alma Martelli, and the rest of the family’s lives were mine to take whenever I wished. I planned to break Lamberto from within, starting with his daughter. He would watch as I bent, twisted, and took my revenge on Alma in ways that soothed me before sending her back to a fatherless home.

My cock hardened at the thought of that, imagining the different things I would do to her. Lamberto would regret having my father murdered. Just as he had taken the most precious person away from me, I was taking his precious daughter away from him—and I would make it more torturing by making him consent to it.

Alma Martelli was mine now. Until I decided otherwise.

I picked up my phone to call Lamberto and jest to him that his daughter was now with me. But before I could dial his number, an urgent knock sounded on my office door.

“Who is it?” I groaned.

“The lady has passed out,” Mario, my right-hand man’s voice, sounded as he pushed the door open.

“What?!” I exclaimed as I sprang to my feet. “How?”

“I don’t know. I guess she’s too exhausted from everything that’s happening.”

“Get the doctor, now!” I groaned as I marched past him and rushed to the room where I had kept her.

She was lying down on the bed, not moving an inch. Rage coursed through me at the sight before me. This woman must not die until I had taken my revenge through her. I had to be the one to break her and kill her—if I wished.

I remained in the room until the doctor arrived. Before he could go close to her, I jerked his hand, glaring at him. “She must live.”

He nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

Only then did I allow him to move closer and examine her. Afterwards, he connected a drip to her hand and turned to look at me.

“She’s fine. She just seems exhausted. But the drip will stabilize her,” he told me.

“When is she expected to wake up?” I asked.

“She should be up in a few hours,” he answered.

“Do not leave the building. Hang around in case she needs you again,” I instructed the doctor.

“But I—”

“Do not question me!” I warned, my voice growing darker. “Her life is more important than whatever it is you want to go and do.”

He sighed, swallowed, then nodded. “Okay.”

He knew better than to defy me. I paid him enough for him to do whatever I wanted.

“Good,” I groaned.

I glanced at the girl on the bed. She was so damn sexy, and I couldn’t wait to deep my cock down her throat while she begged me to do so. After staring and fantasizing for a few moments, I turned around and left the room.

When I got to my office and plopped onto my chair, I picked up my phone and dialed Lamberto Martelli’s number.

He picked up almost immediately. “I was about to storm your house and blow your brains out,” he groaned with so much rage.

“Don’t tell me you think I’m the one behind the massacre, although I wish I was,” I responded with a surprisingly calm tone.

“That was The Mancini’s. You were spotted taking my daughter away from the venue. Return her now!” he growled.

“Aha. I am calling about her. I’m keeping her,” I informed him casually.

“Bold of you to kidnap my daughter and still have the guts to call me about it. What do you want? A ransom? Because I’m about to come send you to where I sent your father!”

Rage rumbled in my chest at his words. But I almost pitied him, because he didn’t know that he was about to pay miserably for what he did.

In our world, made men’s reputation mattered to them more than anything else. I knew just how to get him, and he could never say no to my terms. I grabbed my iPad and searched through my classified documents. When I got what I wanted, a satisfactory smile spread across my face.

“And who said I kidnapped her? You are going to give her to me. Willingly,” I said, trying to be as calm as possible.

“Are you on drugs?” he groaned.

I sent a file to his email. “Check your email,” I simply said.

“What?” he asked, then went quiet.

After a minute, he returned, his voice laced with panic. “Where did you get them from?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now, you have to do as I say, or those documents are going public,” I threatened.

“I just lost my first daughter, Lazzarro. What do you want with my other daughter?” I could hear his voice breaking, and satisfaction rumbled through my chest.

Little did he know that Zita’s death was much more merciful than what I planned to do with Alma.

“I want to make her my bride,” I told him.

“What? No, you—” he began to protest, and I interrupted.

“Okay then. Stay tuned as I release these documents. It’ll definitely make the headlines. Don’t you think?”

“Okay, fine!” he groaned with rage. “How do we go about the contract?”

A wide smile spread across my lips. “I’ll send an address to you. Let’s meet there and shake hands on it.”

He sighed and said reluctantly, “Okay.”

The satisfaction that coursed through me after the call ended was immeasurable. Whatever Lazzaro Visconti wants, he hunts it and he gets it.