Page 38 of Always A Villain (Revenge Duet #2)

I t’s been a week since I landed in Italy, though it feels like one hazy, endless day.

Antonio’s been tight-lipped about details, but he did confirm one thing—the wedding’s soon.

A pit forms in my chest, anger prickling at the edges of my grief.

I shove the feeling down, holding on to one hope— Axe .

I tell myself he’s out there, that he’ll come. He has to come.

I’ve dreamed about Italy for years, but not like this, locked away in some sprawling villa high on a hillside. Fear bites at me, threatening to unravel what little composure I have left.

“Are you ready?” a tall, blonde woman in a maid’s uniform asks from the doorway.

“Ready for what? ”

“Your hair appointment, Miss. Mr. DeLuca has arranged for a stylist to prepare you for tonight.” Her voice is soft, careful.

I let out a bitter laugh. “I’m assuming I don’t have a choice?”

“No, Miss. Please, come with me.”

With a sigh, I follow her through endless marble hallways and out into some gaudy bathroom that could be a movie set. A swarm of stylists waits for me, all with their tools and overdone smiles. I sink into the plush chair.

The head stylist rests a hand on my shoulder. “We’re here to make you look beautiful, Miss. Tonight is very important. We want you to feel perfect.”

“Important? For what?”

A voice behind me answers, one that makes my blood run cold. “You’re meeting your new husband.”

Antonio stands in the doorway, the room falling silent as he strides closer, leaning in close enough for me to see the satisfaction in his eyes—making me want to recoil.

“You will behave, and you will not embarrass me,” he growls.

I force myself to meet his stare, even as my stomach twists. “Who is it?”

A smirk crawls onto his face. “Enzo Russo. A powerful man and a valuable ally for the Dolore.”

“I’m not doing this,” I snap, my denial laced with pure rebellion, even if my hands shake.

Antonio’s gaze sharpens, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You don’t have a choice. You’ll do as you’re told, or there will be consequences. You’re a DeLuca—it’s time you act like one.” He spins around, leaving me in the prison of his words.

“Let’s get started, Miss.” I slump into the chair, glancing at the stranger staring back at me in the mirror. Split lip, bruises fading to purple. My stomach churns once again, but I sit through it, letting them twist my hair and cake on makeup to cover the evidence of this hell.

Every brushstroke feels like a shove, pushing down whatever’s left of my defiance, piece by piece. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I swallow them. I’ll be damned if I let him see me cry.

Hours later, they finally step back, satisfied with their work. I’m dressed up like a doll, hair in soft waves, makeup thick and flawless but barely covering the bruises. I’m led back to my room, where a dress waits on the bed: red silk, a plunging neckline, a slit high enough to make a statement.

The click of my heels echoes like a countdown as I’m led into the dining room, where Antonio sits at the head of a long table overflowing with food that only tightens the knot in my stomach. Guards flank him, dressed in dark suits, eyes flat and emotionless.

“There she is.” His gaze slides over me, smugness dripping from his tone. “Perfect. Sit down. Dinner is served.”

I ease slowly into the chair, my movements stiff, every nerve in my body fighting this horrific ordeal. I’m empty. Hollow. Tears keep burning the backs of my eyes, and I force them away for probably the hundredth time.

Antonio leans forward. “Enzo Russo is a powerful man. His alliance will strengthen the Dolore in ways you can’t even imagine. ”

I glare at him.

“Remember, Victoria. You will behave yourself tonight. Is that clear?”

My mouth opens, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking demands, but before I can get the words out, the doors swing open, and Antonio’s face lights up.

Turning in my seat, I watch as a group of men stride into the room.

I can spot him immediately. Enzo stands at the center of them, tall and oozing arrogance, every inch of him perfectly put together, from his dark hair to his sharp jawline, all highlighted by a suit that screams untouchable.

Our eyes meet for a second—a brief, defiant flash—and I quickly look away.

“Welcome, Enzo,” Antonio says, standing to greet him.

“Antonio, a pleasure to see you again.” Enzo’s voice is as smooth as silk. Their conversation continues into Italian, the words washing over me as I tune them out.

After a few moments, Enzo turns to me, his eyes roaming over my body. He leans in and brushes a cold, lifeless kiss against my cheek, his lips chilling in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.

Then, his fingers lift my chin, holding me there. “Antonio,” he murmurs, each word as sharp as a blade, “care to explain why my soon-to-be wife looks like she’s been beaten?”

“It was necessary,” Antonio replies, not a trace of remorse. “She needed a lesson in her role. But rest assured, she won’t make a scene in front of you or anyone else again.”

Enzo’s fingers trail lightly over the bruise on my cheek, and his mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “We’ll see about that.”

“Please, sit. Dinner is about to be served,”

I keep my gaze lowered, fists clenched under the table as I sit rigidly.

The meal drags on. I avoid their eyes, focusing on my plate, counting each bite until I’m jolted by a sharp grip on my arm. I look up, meeting Antonio’s icy glare.

“What?” I snap.

“Victoria, Enzo asked you a question.”

I glare at Enzo, refusing to speak.

“My fiancée lacks manners, it seems.” Enzo’s humorless chuckle slithers beneath my skin. “Americans—so predictably rude.”

“She’ll learn,” Antonio answers, his grip bruising my arm. “Won't you, Victoria?”

“Go to hell. Both of you.”

Enzo smirks. “Antonio, you didn’t mention she was such a fiery one.”

“A handful, but worth it,” Antonio assures him.

I wrench my arm free, nearly tipping my wine as I do. And then the door opens, and my heart stumbles as Creed walks in.

“Ah, Creed.” Antonio lights up like it’s a family reunion. “So glad you could join. Victoria, say hello to your friend.”

My face twists. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

“Wouldn’t miss the big day,” Creed says, an infuriating smirk plastered across his stupid fucking face.

“Traitor,” I spit. Grabbing my wine, I fling it across the table. Red spatters Creed’s face, but he just wipes it off, unfazed.

Antonio’ s hand clamps down on my shoulder, shoving me back into my seat. “One more outburst, and I’ll have you restrained,” he snarls. Then he turns to Enzo, as if I’m a child misbehaving. “My apologies, Enzo. She’s not as refined as I’d hoped.”

“No matter,” Enzo replies dismissively. “She’ll learn her place soon enough.” He studies me with narrowed eyes, infuriating confidence in every word. “She’ll make a fine wife.”

My stomach churns in disgust, anger and humiliation making me want to tear at my own flesh.

The rest of the meal is a dizzying blur. I catch phrases, low threats, sly comments—none of it registers as I fume, mind racing over Creed’s betrayal. How could he be in on this? How could he do this to Spencer?

Just then, a group of security men floods the room, earpieces in, radios crackling. One steps close to Antonio, whispering something in his ear, and his expression shifts instantly.

“What’s happening?” Enzo demands.

“I'm so sorry, Enzo,” Antonio says as he casts a glance at Creed. “Tell me, did you bring uninvited guests?”

Creed scoffs, smooth as ever. “I sent them on a nice wild goose chase. You really think I'd fuck up like that?”

“Axe,” I breathe, barely a whisper, but the flicker of hope is all I need. I turn, meeting Antonio’s stare head-on. “You’re all dead.”

“Shut your mouth, Victoria,” he snaps, glancing anxiously around .

“You have no idea what’s coming.”

Antonio’s composure breaks. His hand clamps down on my arm, dragging me to my feet.

“You’re a dead man. He’s going to kill you all.”

“What the hell is going on?” Enzo shouts, rising from his seat.

Antonio forces a calm smile. “Nothing but a small setback,” he assures. “Security will handle it. Please, enjoy your meal; let’s not let this minor inconvenience ruin our celebration.”

I thrash against his grip, feeling my heart race faster with every passing second. Axe is here. I know he’s close. “You’re all dead,” I snap, glaring at Enzo. “He’s lying to you.”

“Get her out of here!” Antonio roars. And then, the room plunges into total darkness.

I’m hauled forward, a guard’s painful grip pulling me out of the room, the cold metal of a gun pressing into my temple.

“Move.” The guard roughly shoves me forward, and I smile to myself.

Axe is here.

He came for me.