CHAPTER TWO: MAXIMO
Iloveagood shit show.
And Winter facing off with Sienna, Giovanni’s fiancé, is definitely going to be a shit show.
Because my little mouse’s claws have grown out over the last couple of months and right now it looks like she’s going to claw Sienna’s eyes right out.
I completely push away thoughts of shooting Abramo Accardi for putting his hands on her completely out of my head.
This will be far better entertainment.
It’s time to see how feisty Winter has really gotten.
I raise my shot glass to my lips, watching as Sienna takes another step closer to Winter. “Don’t even try to deny it, you slut,” she yells.
Winter’s eyes are wide and I can only guess she’s still trying to piece together what the fuck is going on. It’s not as if my brother ever mentions his bride to be. Hell, I think the last time I saw those two together was when Sienna was giving Gio a blowjob in his office. That’s all he ever uses her for after all, sex, and her last name that’s going to get him an ally whose men we could rely to back us up when war comes.
“I don’t know-” Winter’s words are cut off as Sienna’s hand strikes out, slapping her right on the cheek. The shot resounds through the room. Winter recoils back, placing a hand on her cheek. Her gaze snaps to Sienna and even from here I can see the anger in her gaze. The fire in her veins.
Whatever meek hesitance that she was feeling before is completely gone.
She lunges forward and both women hit the ground with dresses flying and a high pitched scream leaving Sienna's lips. Winter pins her down easily, at least a good thirty pounds on the much too skinny woman. Winter doesn’t linger, socking Sienna right in the face with her fist.
Warmth spreads through my body and I shift legs as I feel my dick growing hard.
“Seriously? Watching females fight turns you on? Aren’t you too old for that?” Polo asks as he steps up next to me. His head is tilted to the side and he cocks a brow at me before turning to look back at the admittedly, one-sided fight going on.
“You don’t understand, you only have eyes for one woman after all,” I point out. I let out a disappointed grunt as I watch Enzo pull Winter off of Sienna. I try to catch his eye to gesture for him to let her go, to let them fight it out. But his back is to me. He wraps an arm around Winter’s waist, hauling her off the ground like she’s as light as a bag of feathers.
Giovanni is standing just behind them and when Sienna climbs to her feet, prepared to save face by sneak attacking Winter, whose arms are being pinned by Enzo, Giovanni steps in the way.
Sienna’s hand doesn’t even make it to his face before he has his fingers locked around her wrist, annoyance lining his face.
My gaze moves back to Winter as she thrashes wildly, throwing an elbow back into Enzo’s face. His head moves to the side, but he doesn’t release her, not even when she jams the back of her heel into his thigh. He lowers his mouth to her ear, whispering something. All I can focus on though is the way that Winter’s powder blue dress has hiked up, exposing her smooth brown thighs.
Maybe we could replay this out in private, with Enzo fucking her into submission while I watch. The frills of the expensive dress ripped to shreds, her curly hair flying around wildly, and soft little please falling from her luscious lips as her wet cunt is brutalized.
“Giovanni!” The annoying voice interrupts my fantasies and the irritation that moves through me is for more reasons than one.
My gaze flickers over to Sheffield as he pushes toward the group. His fading salt and pepper hair is sticking up on his head wildly and his suit jacket is open, his tie flying. I have to wonder if he’d managed to talk one of the waitresses into fucking him in one of the broom closets for cash, because that’s certainly what he looks like.
He comes to a halt, grabbing his daughter's arm and forcefully pulling her away from Giovanni. My brother lets him. Sheffield inspects Sienna’s face like she’s some delicate flower and not the bitch who just started a fight and lost.
Pathetic.
But still as good as a soap opera.
I snatch a wine glass of the tray of a waiter who’s frozen a few feet away from us to watch the scene unfold as well.
I take a long sip.
“Giovanni,” Sheffield whips around, pointing a finger at my brother. “You let your whore put her hands on my daughter.”
My lips twitch in amusement.
It's rich that he’s calling Winter a whore, considering that his daughter has almost gone through each family in the city. Hell, my brother is even lowering his status in a way with his engagement to such a well used piece of pussy.
She’s more my type than his.