Page 98 of Claimed By the Enemy

“You, Domenico. And that poisonous little wife of yours.”

Riccardo’s hand moves to his jacket, but I’m already diving behind the couch as the first shot rings out. Wood explodes above my head, and I hear him moving across the room.

“You always were too trusting, figlio. Just like your father.”

Another shot, closer this time. I roll toward the kitchen, trying to put more furniture between us.

“Did you really think I didn’t know about your little alliance with Enzo Bellini? Did you think I wouldn’t be watching?”

“Watching what?”

“Everything. Your marriage, your wife’s pregnancy, your pathetic attempts to play detective.”

He’s moving closer, hunting me through his own living room like prey.

“You see, Domenico, I’ve been planning this for a very long time. Sixteen years, to be precise.”

“Planning what?”

“The complete elimination of both the Moretti and Bellini bloodlines.”

I risk a look around the edge of the kitchen island. Riccardo is methodically checking corners, his gun held with professional competence.

“Both bloodlines?”

“Did you think this was just about business? About money?” Riccardo laughs, the sound echoing off expensive walls. “This was about purity. About ensuring that true Italian families like ours don’t get contaminated by street filth.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m a purist. Your father wanted to sully our name with Bellini blood. Now you’ve done exactly the same thing.”

“Sophie is my wife.”

“Sophie is an abomination. The child she’s carrying is an abomination. And when I’m finished with you, both problems will be solved permanently.”

Rage floods through me, hot and immediate. “You touch Sophie, and I’ll kill you.”

“With what? You’re unarmed, trapped, and completely outmatched.”

“Am I?”

The front door explodes inward with a crash that shakes the entire penthouse. Uncle Enzo steps through the debris, flanked by his two men, all of them armed and focused.

“Hello, Riccardo,” Uncle Enzo says calmly. “We need to talk.”

Riccardo spins toward the new threat, his gun wavering between me and the Bellini crew.

“Enzo. I should have known you’d come crawling back eventually.”

“You should have known a lot of things. Like the fact that I’ve been recording this entire conversation.”

Uncle Enzo holds up a small device, its red light blinking steadily.

“Every word, Riccardo. Every confession. Every threat against my niece and her unborn child.”

“You think anyone will believe that recording? I have judges, police commissioners, federal prosecutors in my pocket.”

“You had them in your pocket. Before they learned you’ve been orchestrating gang wars for sixteen years. Before they discovered the money laundering, the arms dealing, the human trafficking, you’ve been hiding behind legitimate businesses.”