Chapter 4
The sheer authority in Vittorio’s command seemed to echo off the cream-colored walls. Marcus Hale, realizing that his position, his wealth, and perhaps his life were unraveling in a matter of seconds, made a disastrously impulsive decision. His eyes darted to Emma, who was still kneeling by the door holding Lucy, the smartphone resting on the floor beside her knee.
"That video is out of context! She manipulated the footage!" Marcus bellowed, his arrogance twisting into desperate rage.
Without warning, Marcus lunged across the room, his large, sturdy frame hurtling toward Emma with his hand outstretched, desperate to snatch the phone and destroy the evidence.
Emma gasped, pulling Lucy tighter against her chest and turning her back to protect the child.
But Marcus never even made it halfway.
Vittorio moved with a terrifying, explosive speed that defied his calm exterior. He stepped directly into Marcus's path, intercepting the charge effortlessly. With a brutal, fluid motion, Vittorio blocked Marcus's extended arm, gripped the fabric of his charcoal tailored suit at the collar and belt, and used the man's own momentum against him.
Vittorio pivoted and hurled Marcus backward with immense, devastating force.
Marcus flew through the air and crashed violently into an antique wooden map rack standing against the far wall. The heavy mahogany structure splintered on impact with a deafening crack. Marcus collapsed into the wreckage of broken wood and scattered vintage maps, groaning in agony, completely neutralized in a single, non-graphic motion.
"Marcus!" Bianca screamed in horror, her carefully styled blonde hair falling out of place.
Panic overtook her. In a moment of sheer hysteria, Bianca rushed forward, her designer heels clicking frantically on the marble, reaching her manicured hands toward Lucy. "Lucy, sweetheart, tell him! Tell your father we were just playing!"
As Bianca’s hand extended toward the child, Vittorio intervened again. He didn't even look at her. He simply shot his arm out and viciously knocked her hand away. The impact spun Bianca around.
Vittorio grabbed her by the shoulders of her expensive champagne-colored silk blouse and forced her backward. Bianca stumbled back, her knees buckling as Vittorio shoved her hard onto a large, tufted leather ottoman in the center of the room.
She landed heavily, the wind knocked out of her lungs.
Vittorio stood over her, his chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath his open-collared white shirt. The subtle tattoos on his forearms flexed as he clenched his fists. The room fell utterly silent, save for Marcus’s pained wheezing from the corner and the soft, muffled sounds of Lucy crying into Emma’s shoulder.
May you like
"Vittorio, please," Bianca whispered, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes, the cruelty entirely drained from her refined features. "You wouldn't hurt me. We're getting married. We're going to be a family."
"You lost the right to that word the moment you touched her," Vittorio replied, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He did not raise his hand again, nor did he need to. His physical dominance over the room was absolute. He was no longer the man she had manipulated; he was the monster she had awakened.
