Chapter 7
991 Words
Silvestro’s POV
“Protect her. Even from herself.”
These were the last few words I heard from Don Ricci before his passing. He believed I could. He trusted me more than he trusted his own blood, Nestore.
That bastard.
I wouldn't have placed myself in such position. Not even for Don Ricci. But there's something about Lillie. That fire that burns so harsh within her.
Dominating. Determined. Firm. Dangerous.
I want it. I craved it in my space. In my clan.
I accepted Don Ricci’s request for myself not for him.
“Come in,” My voice was low but the door creaked opened anyway.
Damiano stepped into the suite with a straight face. I raised a chin, indicating that he speaks.
“Galio proposed marriage to her.” He began.
My lips pulled sideways. Galio. The same old fool that has spat that he would never let a woman rule? How shameless of him.
There is no way Lavinia would consider him. What the hell was he thinking?
“And?” I asked without flinching.
“She didn't say no.” My brow furrowed. “She didn't say yes either.”
“Hmmm” I took a slow breath, watching the smoke from my cigar rise like ghosts into the air.
“Send words to the east wing.” I said finally, “Nestore will not wait until morning.”
Damiano nodded, his hands behind him when he asked, “Aren't you going to warn her?”
I snickered. Warn Lavinia. That girl is like a siren. She doesn't listen and wouldn’t especially if the warning comes from me. She's as stubborn as her father. Or worse.
“She tried to kill me today,” I said calmly, “Held a dagger to my throat. Her eyes? They didn’t flinch.”
“She must really hate you.” Damiano let out a dry chuckle.
“Is there a stronger word for hate?” I asked rhetorically. I puffed out the smoke from my mouth into the air.
“She doesn't know what you're doing for her” He half-sighed and half-chuckled.
“She doesn't need to.” A beat passed before I added, “Letting her hate me is easier than making her trust me.”
Before Damiano could say anymore, I mentioned.
“She needs allies. She'll die before morning if she's left to do this alone.”
“Understood, boss.” Damiano stepped back, but paused before leaving. “You ever think she’ll forgive you? When she learns the truth?”
I paused.
I sighed as flashes of blood on Don Ricci’s shirt filled my memory.
“She doesn’t need to forgive me,” I said. “She just needs to live.”
Damiano nodded before stepping out of the suite. I remained sitted, deep in thought when I felt a pat in my heart.
My instincts telling me to be alert.
My eyes snapped open. My fingers brush the cold mental of the small pistol strapped to my side as I moved soundlessly across the room.
Everywhere was quiet. Too quiet.
My eyes narrowed as I quietly tried to open the door to my room. Taking a sneak peak, I saw a figure. Covered in cloak, I couldn't tell who it was.
I straightened up, and pushed the door open with a creak.
The person froze. Standing very close to the drawer where I had placed the heirloom.
I cracked my gun, “Step aside gently and turn around.” I commanded.
The person didn't step aside, but did turn around.
My lips curled into a smirk, “Well, well, well. If it's not my beloved bride.”
Lavinia Ricci.
Beautiful. Reckless. Stubborn as hell.
And currently robbing me blind.
“Well,” I said calmly, leaning against the doorframe, “If you wanted to see my bedroom this badly, you could’ve just asked.”
Her eyes were sharp, her hands not in sight, so I stayed alert. One thing I have learnt about this lady, is, she loved the knives. She always had it with her.
“You do have such a nice bedroom.” Her voice rusty like she is being forced to compliment my place.
“You should see our room in Rome,” I grinned as her eyes rolled hard.
Turning back around, she ignored me, “I came for what's mine. You can get back to what you were doing.”
I didn't stop her. I watched her. She found the box and took it out of the drawer. She flung the box open and found it empty. Her breath caught.
Silence.
Then she turned. Eyes filled with fury, she hissed,
“Where. is. the. ring?!”
“I didn't know you're so desperate to marry me?” I sneered, walking into the room.
“Dream on” Her words sharp.
I took the ring out of my trousers pocket and raised it.
Its ornate black gem still glistened under the light, etched with the family crest—one that no outsider dared wear. Except I wasn’t an outsider, not anymore.
“This?” I asked.
Her face darkened, “Stephen!” She growled.
The tension thickened in the room. Her hold on the dagger tightened, her jaws clenched. I knew what she was about to do.
Her stance screamed war with no fear. No hesitation. Just Lavinia Ricci, furious and ready to draw blood.
So I muttered.
“Get in.”
Within seconds, she was surrounded by my men. Her eyes darkened.
Yet she didn't back down.
“Protect her. Even from herself.” I heard her father's words again and I shook my head.
He knew his daughter well enough. She doesn't know when to give up.
I let my gaze trail over her—fire in her eyes, blade in her hand—then closed my fingers around the ring,
“I don't joke with what's mine.”
- Writer
