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We head to the table, but Alessio stops. “Go sit. I’ll be right there,” before pulling Kota aside, talking about something I can’t hear.

The table is round, and I remember reading about this tradition. No head of the table means unity. Tonight, it’s about family and me, apparently. A way to welcome the newcomer and pull me into his world.

Everyone hovers around the table, waiting for what I don’t know, but no one is sitting.

“They won’t sit unless you do first. Permission and all that,” Paola whispers behind me.

Well… shit.

I suck in a breath, pull out my chair, and sit. I look up at the group of men who could probably make people disappear before dessert.Fake it till you make it,Liv.“Please, take your seats.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone follows suit and settles in. No one sits beside me until the chair on my right drags back.

Of course, it’s Alonzo.

He lifts his water glass. “To Liv. May she survive the night, and us.”

The table responds in cheers ‘to Liv,’ but I don’t pick up my glass. Not because it’s bad luck to toast with water, but because of his pathetic attempt to insult me, he’s baiting me.

No one else drinks either, which wipes the smug grin off Alonzo’s face. His cheeks flush a deep red, and he leans in, jabbing my arm with a sneer. “So, upgraded from whore to housewife, huh?”

I open my mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove it, but then Alonzo freezes, his hands pressing flat on the table, staring behind me.

I don’t need to turn to know why. Alessio stands a few feet behind the seat to my left, with Kota on his left. They are both staring at Alonzo. The room goes silent aside from the waiters moving around us, placing champagne flutes on the table.

“Liv,” Alessio says, looking at me. “Stand up.”

His men are watching me. So, I do what any sane person would do in a room full of killers, and whatAlessio expects—I listen. I can practically hear him tell me I’m a good girl, the way he’s eye-fucking me right now as I push my chair back and stand up.

“Take a step back,” he adds.

I move back a couple of feet. “Here good?”

That sinfully sexy grin flashes at me. Then it’s gone as he turns back to the table, looking like an ice-cold killer.

“This is Olivia Morano,” he announces. “My fiancée. Disrespect her in any way, and you will pay. I shouldn’t have to say it once, and I won’t say it again.”

“Yes, Don,” echoes around the table, voices overlapping, each in agreement.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. The big, broody killer... and yet, he’s standing there, protecting me, claiming me.

Bang.

The gunshot pierces my ears, and Alonzo screams. He’s clutching his bleeding hand, that is damn near missing right now. Blood spatters and little pieces of hand hit the table, and me.

I don’t move. I stand here, frozen. It’s like everything around me happens so fastand so slow at the same time. The only thing that registers is the cold blue eyes staring at me and the gun in Alessio’s hand.

“Let that be a lesson,” Alessio says. “Get him the fuck out of my house.”

Two men leap up, dragging Alonzo away as he swears and howls.

What the hell did I sign up for?

34

Alessio

I walk upstairs, my shoes sticking to the marble from all the blood on the dining room floor. I’ve seen worse, done worse, but there’s too much of that asshole’s hand splattered across the table to stomach dinner, so I scrapped it. There’s no regret. The fucker had it coming, he’s lucky he’s still alive. But the mess... fuck. Blood everywhere, little bone pieces, fleshy debris, and that was just from one fucking hand.