Giovanni’s men come pouring into the room around him, and I watch in fascination as they scatter themselves around as though Giovanni needs protection from his own damn sons. Though, I’ve heard the stories whispered in the club and censored on the news. If they were my sons, I’d be terrified of them too.
His men look just as terrifying as he does, black suits wrapped around lean muscle and an array of weapons hanging from their belts. They each have small radios and earpieces, making out like Giovanni is some kind of king who needs the best protection money can buy. Either that, or he uses them as a show of force against his sons to overpower them to do his bidding. I guess life would be pretty sweet when you have three relentless sons who don’t fear death. They’re the perfect hitmen for anyone’s team.
Roman’s hands ball into fists at his sides and I watch how he visibly tries to restrain himself. Marcus’ comment about how his father had slaughtered the pregnant girl swirls through my mind, and I can’t help but wonder just how fresh that memory is for the three of them.
Their father begins surveying the room, scanning over every inch of the place, but before his harsh, lifeless stare can land on me and Roman, Levi steals his attention. “Father,” he says, his tone sharp and straight to the point. “What brings you here today?”
“Can I not visit my sons without an ulterior motive?” he questions, his deep tone unsettling me right to my core.
“Seriously?” Marcus asks, hooking his legs over the armrest of his chair. “You haven’t stepped foot into our little prison since you slaughtered Flick five months ago. So, what’s the deal? Come to check up on us now that we have a new little toy to play with?”
Giovanni’s attention falls right to me.
Fuck.
I’ll have to remember to thank him for this great honor.
“Come here,” Giovanni’s booming voice cuts right through my panic, searing me with his deadly stare.
My gaze flicks to Marcus and then back to Roman, who looks as though he’s about to shove his heavy boot right up my ass to get me moving. “What’s it going to be?” I murmur, my eyes brimming with the power of my threat while becoming all too aware that my pause means Giovanni is forced to wait on me, something I’m positive he simply just does not do.
Roman doesn’t respond but I see the irritation deep within his gaze. I’ve got him right where I want him, and assuming I make it through this, I don’t doubt that I’ll be paying for this risky little game.
The longer I wait for his response, the worse things are going to be with their father, but a girl has gotta risk it for the biscuit.
Roman glances back at his father and the slightest nod of his tells me that my game has finally come to an end. Victory washes through me, but before I get a chance to bask in my win, Giovanni’s fierce roar tears across the room. “HOW DARE YOU KEEP ME WAITING, GIRL.”
Fuck.
My eyes bug out of my head and I quickly get my ass moving, trying to remember everything the boys said to me before he walked in here. Don’t say a word. Don’t look at him. Don’t even dare to breathe.
Well, shit. Judging by the shitty first impression I’ve just made, something tells me that all three of those helpful little hints are as useless as Tarzan’s burned remains sitting back in my trash can at home.
I scurry around the big table, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I feel the nausea building deep in my gut. If at any point during all this shit that I was meant to die, this would probably be it.
I sense the three brothers discreetly moving around the room with me, which causes Giovanni’s men to do the same, and damn it, if I’m aware of it, then I can guarantee Giovanni is too.
Situating myself in front of the most terrifying man I’ve ever met, I try to remember to breathe. My knees shake and my hands grow sweaty at my sides while I try my best not to fold in on myself.
His wicked gaze starts at the mess on top of my head and before he’s even moved down to my face, a disgusted scowl settles over his lips. His lingering stare travels over my features, or lack thereof. “Turn,” he demands, the scowl stretching further across his face.
“This is it?” he questions in disgust, glancing up at Roman as I finish my slow spin. “This is not at all what I thought she was going to be. She’s a twig, barely enough to keep a man satisfied, let alone three.”
Roman shrugs. “That’s it.”