Page 110 of Ruthless God
“You have to help me, Luna.”
“How?”
“You have to take me in. Have Massimo protect me. You don’t run from the Bratva. Ever. They won’t forgive me for this. And if you send me back to New York, you might as well be asking Boris to put a bullet to my head.”
“Does Andre know about this?” I asked.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Why do you think I’m married to the psychopath in the first place? Daddy set up this marriage.”
Her eyes flared, not bothering to hide the hatred in them.
I was still shaken over the fact that Andre willingly handed Lina over to the Bratva, especially knowing what they were capable of.
She looked up at me. “Are you going to help me or not?”
There was no pleading in her voice. Just expectation. Expectation that I would give in and do as she asked, simply because she asked.
The sad thing was, I was going to help her. I knew I couldn’t leave her for the Bratva to find her. And sending her back to Andre and Mom would only result in her going back to New York.
Even if bringing her back home with me, withMassimo, and intruding in the peace I had found for myself was the last thing I wanted.
27
MASSIMO
I foundmyself hesitating by the front door.
For the first time since I brought Luna home, I didn’t want to go inside my house, and it had nothing to do with my wife but the person she brought home with her.
Never mind the fact that if Lina came and asked her for help, it meant she was running from the Bratva. I really didn’t want the girl anywhere in my home and anywhere near my wife.
And I was fucking angry.
I’d stayed away from the house to give myself time to calm down, but I was still fucking angry.
Luna took a risk today.
An unnecessary risk at that.
I hadn’t considered assigning her a bodyguard yet because she hadn’t left the house without Matteo or me, but what happened today showed my mistake.
She left with only Luigi as her protection, and even if I trusted the man to help me run my estate, Luigi would have been no match for any Bratva fucker who might have shown up on my territory.
My fists clenched.
Just before I stepped onto the porch, my phone vibrated in the front pocket of my suit jacket. I pulled it out to see Valentino’s name on the screen.
“Tell me,” I said by way of greeting.
“Emilio is angry. He claims he had no idea Andre was planning the marriage to the Bratva.”
“And do you believe him?” I asked.
“I do,” Valentino answered without hesitation, surprising me.
I nodded, even if he couldn’t see me. I trusted Valentino’s judgment as much as I trusted my brothers’.
“It also convinces me of the fact since Andre and his wife are nowhere to be found.”
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