Vittorio
She had seen him.
Vittorio hid behind the tree, his heart pounding out of his chest as he waited for her to continue to move down the street. He had been getting regular updates from his men who had been trailing her all morning, but finally he couldn’t take it and had come to see for himself.
Sure enough, it was Sharon. He would know that face, that body anywhere. She looked like the rest of the students filing out of the classes, her blond ponytail swinging as she hurried across campus. His heart had frozen in his chest as he watched her from afar, careful to stay out of her path. The last thing he wanted was for their reunion to be in broad daylight. He still didn’t know how she would react to seeing him again.
Blowing out a breath, he peered around the tree, feeling like a dumbass to be doing so. He was the fucking boss of one of the most predominant mob families in New York, yet he was hiding behind a fucking tree because of a chick.
His father would be fucking rolling over in his grave.
But she looked happy and healthy, which eased the tension in his shoulders after a week or more of worrying like hell about her. She was doing what she had come to New York to do and, if their paths had never crossed, if she had never been taken by Rocco’s goons and sold in the sex trade, she would be a much different person.
But their paths had crossed, and his hands itched to hold her, to touch her soft skin and tell her that he was fucking sorry she had felt the need to run from him. He wanted her happy, but he had also wanted her with him. She made him happy and he felt like she had been happy with him up until the intruder.
He would do anything to have her be happy with him again.
Sharon had moved on down the street, but a new interest caught Vittorio’s eye and he started across the street, his black coat flapping behind him. Shit. He knew it had been too good to be true.
The man weaved in and out of the crowd, ear buds in his ears and his hands tucked in his pockets, looking like every other fucker on the sidewalk. But Vittorio recognized his face. He was one of Rocco’s goons, one that had been in the club that night they had confronted each other.
Rocco had found Sharon.
His blood ran cold as he followed the man from a distance, apparently in no hurry to kill Vittorio’s love. No doubt he was waiting until she got to the lesser-crowded streets where no one would hear her scream when he killed her, leaving her to die in an alley by herself.
Had his men not located her, that could have easily been the case.
Vittorio clenched his jaw as he followed him, waiting until he had cleared out some of the foot traffic before he increased his pace, reaching him before he turned the next corner.
“Hey!” the man said as Vittorio grabbed his arm.
Vittorio clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into an alley that reeked of spoiled food.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Vittorio demanded as the man flailed in his grip. “Are you fucking stupid?”
The man’s voice was muffled under his hand, so Vittorio removed it, not caring if he screamed.
“Contarini, I swear, I wasn’t gonna kill her.”
Vittorio let out a harsh laugh as he reached for the knife he kept at his side, glad that he had put on his leather gloves this morning.
“Yeah right. Tell me another lie. It won’t save your life.”
“Please,” the man begged as Vittorio tightened his arm around his neck. “I swear to you. P-please don’t kill me.”
“Too late,” Vittorio said, holding the knife against his throat. “Rocco sent you, didn’t he? How did he find her?”
“I-I don’t know,” the man protested, his hands grabbing wildly at Vittorio’s arm. Vittorio was at least twice the size of him and the futile attempts to dislodge his arm did nothing. “I wasn’t gonna touch her.”
Vittorio had had enough. He slit the man’s throat in one even slice, allowing the body to crumple to the pavement. The man gurgled once before he went limp, his body hidden in the shadows of the building from anyone passing by the alley. He wiped the blade on the man’s shirt before tucking it back into its sheath, grimacing as he sidestepped the blood starting to pool under the man’s body. He felt nothing at the kill, no remorse, and certainly no excitement.
His main concern was that Sharon was now a target. Rocco knew she was alive and out from under Vittorio’s protection. Vittorio knew he should leave her alone, let her live her life as she saw fit, which wasn’t with him, but he couldn’t. This asshole was no doubt the first of many that would be after her if he didn’t intervene.
Vittorio stepped over the body and walked out of the alley, pulling his gloves off before reaching for his cell and hitting one lone number.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get some men over to her apartment,” he growled. “She was followed today. No harm is to come to her or I will fucking kill each one of you.”
“Yes sir.”
Vittorio stuck the phone back in his pocket as he walked back to where the car was waiting, a grim look on his face. She wasn’t going to be happy with what was about to happen, but he had no choice. Knowing that she was alive should be enough for him, but with Rocco still on the warpath he couldn’t chance just leaving her be. Sharon had left him willingly, putting him through agony, but now she was about to see his fucking ugly face once more.
He just hoped she didn’t fucking hate him afterward.