Chapter 4

The air in the chapel was so tense a single spark could have set it ablaze.

Marcus had already forced the cigar cutter against my teeth.

He was using every ounce of strength. His knuckles had gone white.

"Claire, I said open your mouth!"

He raised his other hand and slapped me hard across the face.

He didn't hold back.

Stars burst in front of my eyes, and a buzzing roar in my ears drowned out everything else.

The corner of my mouth split. Blood dripped down my chin onto my gold dress.

Beside him, Olivia covered her eyes in mock horror and gave a little cry.

"Marcus, be careful. Don't get blood on the Don's shoes."

Bruno chimed in too.

"Mr. Galli, why don't you do it somewhere else? Don't dirty the carpet. That's the Don's favorite handmade Persian rug."

Marcus wasn't listening. All he cared about was proving his loyalty to Valentino.

As if that would clear him of blame for sending over the woman who'd offended the Don.

The cigar cutter pried my teeth apart, and the cold, sharp metal slid in.

I shook with pain, but I looked past Marcus and kept my eyes on Valentino.

He was still standing on the stairs.

Cold, ruthless, untouchable.

He glanced at my bloody face, completely unmoved.

As if the horror before him were nothing more than a dull street performance.

The Italian boy who'd once cried when a fishbone pricked my finger had died long ago.

He'd died in the sea that swallowed everything and in ten years of bloody power struggles.

The Valentino standing there was a walking corpse, rotten to the core.

Click.

The ring of the cigar cutter closed around my tongue.

A ruthless glint flashed in Marcus's eyes. His arm tensed as he prepared to squeeze.

As the pain hit, I found strength I didn't know I had.

I jerked my head aside and slammed my skull into Marcus's nose with everything I had.

Crack!

Caught off guard, Marcus screamed and fell back.

The cigar cutter slipped from my mouth, its sharp blade slicing the side of my tongue.

Blood welled up and streamed from the corners of my lips.

"You bitch!"

Clutching his bleeding nose, Marcus scrambled up in a rage and kicked me in the stomach.

The kick sent me flying.

My back slammed into the huge ebony table in the center of the chapel.

It rocked violently from the impact.

Everything on the table rattled.

The tattered bear on the edge of a wooden crate slipped off and fell into the dust.

The split in its belly tore wider, revealing the corner of an old, neatly folded banknote.

Valentino's expression changed in an instant.

His aloof indifference shattered, replaced by murderous fury.

He strode over and kicked Marcus away as he tried to come at me again.

Marcus's breastbone cracked. He flew backward into a row of pews and lay there, unable to get up.

"Who told you to touch this table?"

Valentino bent to pick up the bear and brush off the dust. Then he grabbed the back of my neck and hauled me up.

His gray-green eyes were bloodshot, and his voice rang like a death knell.

"If you want to die that badly, I'll grant your wish."

He drew a custom tactical hunting knife from his belt.

The blade flashed in the pale moonlight.

Olivia screamed, covered her mouth, and stumbled backward, landing on the floor.

Bruno and the gunmen lowered their heads, hardly daring to breathe.

Everyone knew Valentino was about to shed blood himself.

The cold blade pressed against my carotid artery.

One flick of his wrist and blood would spray three feet from my neck.

"If you get your filthy blood on it, dying 10,000 times over won't be enough to pay for it."

Valentino's voice was icy, without a trace of feeling.

I looked down at the blade pressed against my skin.

Then I lifted my gaze to those gray-green eyes, so close and yet full of a stranger's murderous intent.

Absurdity, sorrow, and the rage I'd held in for ten years battled in my chest.

He was going to cut my throat.

For a tattered teddy bear I'd fished out of a trash can for him, he was going to cut my throat.

Could anything in the world be more ridiculous?

Valentino's brows drew together, and the blade broke my skin.

A thin line of blood ran down the edge of the knife.

"What... is that look in your eyes?"

I stopped resisting and hung from his hand like a rag doll.

I stared straight into the eyes that had once been full of starlight and devotion.

I opened my bloody mouth and, word by word, repeated what I used to snap at him under the bridge in Naples.

"Val, why are you still holding needles between your teeth?"