~ Massimo ~
The line went dead with a sharp, final click.
There was no explanation, no detail, and no room for questions. My father didn't suggest or request; he commanded, and he expected the world to bend to his will without a second's delay.
I stood there in the middle of the restaurant, the phone still gripped in my hand, my blood beginning to simmer and then boil over.
The soft, romantic melody from the band suddenly sounded like grating noise.
Just when I had allowed myself to breathe—just when I thought I was actually having a moment where the shadows of my life couldn't reach me—the reality of my world slammed back into place.
I felt like a bloody fool.
I was a Valentino, the heir to a throne built on blood and bullet casings, and I was stupid enough to think there was such a thing as peace for a man like me.
"Massimo?"
Niamh's voice was small, laced with a mixture of worry and a flickering fear that made my heart ache.
