Page 17 of Bellini Born

“Last chance,” I warned.

“What? Don’t have the stomach for it, baby brother?” Dante began to taunt, but the tail end of it turned into a bloodcurdling scream as I cut his finger clean off.

Spinning around to the men against the wall bearing witness, I asked, “Any more questions about my capacity to handle traitors?”

A few of them looked green around the gills, but they all managed to shake their heads, murmuring, “No, sir.”

Pale and dripping sweat, Dante looked like shit by the time I ran out of fingers, but he still refused to confess where my money had gone.

That meant I needed to step it up a notch, taking his torture to a place that made my stomach turn just thinking about it.

Tucking the pruning shears into my pocket, I knelt between his spread-open thighs. When my hands landed on his belt buckle, that caught his attention real quick.

“Wh-what are you doing?” For the first time, genuine fear flickered into his gaze.

My movements didn’t pause, undoing his buckle before drawing down his fly. “My worst. Isn’t that what you asked for?”

“Y-yes, b-but . . .” Dante stammered, his eyes dipping to his crotch.

“But what? You didn’t think I would take that as a personal challenge after you insulted me?” Tsking, I chided, “Guess you fucked up, didn’t you?”

Shoving down the waistband of his underwear, I barked out a throaty laugh. “Fuck, now I know why you needed the money. You were clearly trying to compensate for this pathetic excuse for a dick.” Over my shoulder, I called out to my men, “There’s barely enough here to cut off.”

Their heads dropped back as they howled.

Did I relish the idea of cutting off this asshole’s manhood? Not in the slightest. In fact, my balls were currently trying to work their way back inside my body as reality sank in that I was actually going to do this.

It was extreme, but I couldn’t think of a better way to make sure word spread throughout the ranks—and possibly to our enemies—that Matteo Bellini was not to be fucked with. I might not be the man born to wear the mantle of Don, but at least for now, the crown rested atopmyhead, and they’d do well not to forget it.

“Any last words?” I prompted as I tugged on his puny limp dick, stretching it as far as it would go.

A wet warmth soaked my hand as Dante promptly pissed himself.

“Lovely,” I muttered under my breath.

“Matteo,” Enzo spoke from my right.

“Hmm?” I positioned the shears against Dante’s shaft. One squeeze of my hand was all it would take.

Voice low in my ear, my cousin said, “There’s a certain little blonde that just showed up at the estate.”

That sure as hell got my attention, and my head whipped around. “Did she now?”

“Paulie’s got her stopped at the gate. What do you want me to tell him to do?”

“Have him let her in, then tell Teresa to make her comfortable while she waits.”

Enzo gave a firm nod, reaching for his cell. “Got it.”

Turning back to Dante, I remarked, “As much as I’d love to drag out your suffering, you caught a lucky break that I have somewhere better to be.”

His dark eyes lit up with hope a split second before I clenched my fist, severing his dick from his body. His screams echoed off the concrete walls, and it was a wonder he didn’t pass out from the pain.

With my trophy in hand, I spun to face the rest of my staff. “Let this be a reminder to anyone who thinks they can steal from the Bellinis.” I tossed the lump of flesh in their direction, and they recoiled in horror. One of them even doubled over and promptly lost the contents of his stomach.

Reaching behind me, I grabbed the gun tucked into the waistband of my pants. A quick shot to the center of Dante’s forehead, and my body count grew by one.

But none of that mattered because Summer Reynolds was sitting inside my house.