Chapter eight — His Girl
1236 Words
Nigel’s POV
“Luke,” I growled into the phone the second I stepped out of Angels. My jaw was tight, my knuckles itching for blood. “Find out the bastards that touched my girl. And make them pay.”
There was no hesitation on the other end.
“Yes, Nigel.”
I shoved the phone into my pocket and slid into the waiting car. Vato caught my eyes in the rearview mirror but looked away instantly. He knew better. My silence was a storm, and right now, no one was safe standing under it.
Her busted lip. Her stubborn chin. The way she tried to act like it was nothing.
My girl. Someone had dared to hurt her.
And for that, someone was going to f*****g bleed.
---
The basement reeked of sweat, piss, and mildew. Perfect. The kind of stink where men learned to pray. Vato and three of my men followed behind me as I stepped inside.
A fat bastard lounged in a broken chair, gold tooth flashing when he smirked at me. He was already sweating, like his body knew what was coming.
“You Toni?” My voice was low, flat.
He tilted his head, puffing out his chest. “Who’s asking?”
My fist smashed into his mouth before he could blink. His scream filled the air, blood spraying across his shirt as that shiny tooth clattered to the floor.
One of his guards lunged. Big mistake. My men tore through them like paper, knives flashing, bones crunching. By the time I dragged Toni up by his greasy collar, the concrete was littered with groaning bodies.
“How dare you put your hands on her?” I growl, venom burning at the back of my throat. “On my girl?”
His eyes bulged, hands trembling against me. “P-please, there’s been a mistake. I didn’t touch your girl—I don’t even know your girl!” His voice cracked, pathetic and high-pitched.
“Gabriella.” I growled.
His eyes wide with recognition. He froze, lips trembling. “I… I didn’t know she was yours—”
“That was your first mistake.” I tightened my grip until his fat neck turned purple. “Your second was breathing near her.”
“I swear! I’ll never go near her again. Please. Please, Nigel.” He begged.
I slammed him into the wall so hard the plaster cracked. “Shut the f**k up. You think you get to touch what’s mine and walk away breathing? Nah. You’ll pay for every second she was scared. For every drop of blood she bled.”
By the time I was done, Toni wasn’t smirking anymore. His face was a swollen mess, his nose bent the wrong way, his mouth a ruin of blood and broken teeth. He whimpered like a dog, crawling on the floor, begging for death.
But I didn’t kill him. That would’ve been mercy.
I crouched, voice cold as ice. “Crawl back to your little friends. Tell them what happens when anyone even breathes in Gabriella’s direction. Tell them Nigel Caruso doesn’t forgive.”
I stood, wiping my knuckles with his shirt before dropping him like trash. Then I grabbed the wad of cash she’d given him, stuffed it into Vato’s hands. “Deliver it back to her. Add more. Make it clean. She doesn’t pay loan sharks in my city.”
---
The next day, I sat in the backseat of the black SUV, watching the café through tinted glass.
She moved gracefully inside, weaving between tables with a tray balanced on her hand, offering small smiles to the customers. Even in a simple apron, hair tied back, she still stirred the kind of thoughts in me no other man had the right to imagine. Her lip was still bruised, and it twisted something sharp in my chest. My hands twitched like they wanted to wrap around Toni’s fat throat all over again.
“She’s… cute,” Lora’s teasing voice broke the silence from the seat beside me. My cousin smirked, eyes dancing. “Didn’t know you were into this type, Nigel. Sweet, stubborn girls pouring coffee for minimum wage? Not exactly your usual taste.”
I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowing at her. The smirk slid right off her face, she laughed nervously, covering her mouth.
“I never had a type,” I said, voice low. “Until now.”
That ended the conversation.
Inside the café, Gabriella leaned down to serve a table. A man—young, tall, face all smiles and giddy, he said something to her which made her laugh. Not the forced smile she gave customers. A real laugh. Light. Genuine.
Something in me snapped.
“Luke.” My tone was ice.
“Yes, Nigel,” he replied from the front seat.
“Find out who the hell that man is. And what his relationship is to Gabriella.”
“Yes, Nigel.”
“Vato.”
“Yes, Prince?”
“Drive.”
As the café shrank behind us, the last image burned into me was her laughing. At someone else.
---
The boardroom was thick with cigar smoke and tension. Ten of my top men sat around the table, eyes shifting every time I didn’t answer right away. My head wasn’t here—it was back in that café.
“Boss… forgive me, but—are you… distracted?”one of my lieutenants asked.
The room went ice-cold. Every man froze.
My chair scraped back as I rose slowly, planting my palms on the table. My gaze locked on the i***t who’d spoken. “Distracted?” I repeated softly. Too softly.
“B-boss, I didn’t mean—” he stammered.
I slammed my hand down so hard the wood cracked. “Say that s**t again. Go on. Say it again and I’ll carve the word ‘distracted’ into your skull myself.”
The man’s face drained of blood. He shook his head violently, words tripping over themselves. “Forgive me, Prince. Won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t.” I sat back down, eyes sweeping the room. “Now, unless one of you is suicidal, let’s keep moving.”
Another lieutenant cleared his throat. “Boss… shipment through the East docks. Do we greenlight it?”
Silence stretched. I could feel all of them waiting, afraid. I leaned forward slowly, fingers drumming against the polished wood.
“Yes. But double the security. If anyone so much as sneezes on our cargo, I want their heads on spikes by morning.”
“Yes, Boss.” Relief flooded his face.
Another man piped up, cautious. “What about the Russians moving through the North side? Do we strike first?”
I let my gaze crawl across the table, meeting every pair of eyes. “The Russians breathe on my turf, they die. End of discussion.”
A murmur of agreement followed. No one dared push me further. They all felt the weight in the room—that my rage had shifted, had a new target.
And even as deals were made and orders given, I wasn’t really listening. My mind was miles away, replaying Gabriella’s laugh, the softness in her eyes when she looked at another man.
I didn’t just want her. I didn’t just crave her.
I wanted to own her.
And no other man would f*****g have her.
- Writer
