Chapter Three

I stalk up quietly behind the guard posted by the rear gate of the opulent hotel that Marco Rodrigeuz has chosen for his wedding.

I've been watching Marco for years, hoping that he would lead me back to Kate. I always assumed he would be too foolish and inexperienced to keep her location hidden from me.

Surprisingly, Kate's lover proved to be very good at keeping her in hiding where I couldn't find her. He was even better at slipping out of my clutches every time I tried to get even with him for humiliating me.

All of that is going to end today.

Today, I am going to finally get my hands on Kate again. And, if I'm lucky, I'm also going to be able to get even with that prick Marco for hiding her from me for so long.

When my informant told me that Marco wasn't marrying Kate, but rather a Baldini, I knew it was my opening.

Kate is mine, always has been, always will be. And it's about goddamn time she's back where she belongs.

I crack my knuckles, glancing down at my long, thin, fingers. My mother likes to say that I had the hands of a poet or a musician.

I am very talented at things like art and music. However, I am much more talented at brutality.

I wait until the guard passes by me, casually smoking a cigarette as he wanders back and forth near the gate.

I would have expected Marco to be more careful about the people he chose to protect his family during his wedding. But then again, maybe being in love has made him go soft.

Aside from being a big soft pushover, there"s nothing that would explain why Kate would even be allowed at this wedding. And if my intel is correct, she will be.

My mouth twists into a grimace. Love makes us all go soft in the head. That's why I'm never going to allow that emotion to cloud my judgment again.

The guard passes by me again and pauses to grind out his cigarette in the sandy planter near me. Seeing my chance as he turns away, I leap out of the shrubs and wrap my powerful arm around his neck.

I immediately clap a hand over his mouth so that he can't alert any other guards with his shouting. I squeeze hard, my forearm digging into his windpipe. It is only a matter of moments before the guard sags limply in my arms.

I drag his unconscious body back into the bushes I hid in, then hurry along the stucco wall toward the sounds of merriment.

I remember the girl that Marco is marrying. Sure, she's a Baldini, but not the most important sibling. The sons in the Baldini family are who really matter.

I don't have a beef with Grazia, or the other wives who have married into the Baldini family. However, women often make excellent bargaining chips when it comes to mob warfare.

I'm always surprised that other men in my business choose to marry women that they actually love.

It's almost impossible to protect lovers and wives, something I am about to prove with great clarity.

I halt outside the huge wooden doors that lead into the reception area. I know that there will be a guard on the other side of this door. I know this because I told him to be there and I'm paying a hefty price for his promise that he will make it easy for me to get inside the reception area.

I whistle the prearranged signal, and the door cracks open to reveal a young, skinny man with a nervous look on his face.

"You made it," he whispers to me.

I chuckle. "As if there was any doubt that I would get this far," I retort.

The young man slips out from behind the large door with his hand out. "Pay up and I will walk away."

I meet his gaze for a moment, my black eyes boring into him. He starts to shift back and forth nervously on his feet. "Did you just give me an order, boy?" I ask, my voice pitched dangerously low.

He swallows audibly. "No," he says.

"No, sir," I shoot back.

"No, sir," he replies, his voice cracking on the word ‘sir'.

I utter another little laugh, then reach into my jacket pocket. I bring out a roll of money, carefully secured with a rubber band. "For your trouble," I say, offering it to the young man.

His fingers are clammy as he takes it from my hand. "Now, get out of here," I say, already moving past him toward the sounds of voices and music.

I'm not worried about him turning on me. I paid him more than he probably makes in a year working for Marco's shitty gang.

There's no one in the entryway as I walk along the tiled floor, being careful not to make too much noise. I pass by a fountain and then draw to a halt, my senses on high alert.

I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the slightly darker interior space that I'm standing in, not sure what caught my attention. I realize that I hear footsteps coming my way.

I quietly step backward against the wall, knowing that the large doors will block me from sight while still allowing me to see the person who is headed my way.

My lips curl into a smile as I see the man of the hour, Marco Rodriguez, walking toward me. What good luck. He's loosening his bowtie and rubbing the back of his neck.

He looks fit and trim, and more mature than the last time I saw him, seven years ago, in his little beach house with my fiancée.

I feel a jolt of liquid rage pour through my body, making my skin feel hot and tight over my bones.

My anger is like a living thing, hard to control at times.

It's both a gift and a curse, one of the blessings of my genetic makeup.

Over the years of my childhood, I watched my father dominate powerful men by the sheer force of his ire, which was terrible and shocking to behold.

As I grew older, I found that I was capable of the same potent fury, which inspired fear, respect, and success in our world. But it also required careful management, something that had taken me years to perfect.

If only I had been able to control my emotions with such ease seven years ago. So many things would have been different.

Clamping down on my anger at the sight of the man who hid Kate from me for so many years, I step out of the shadows.

I see that he's startled and this makes me grin at him. He has grown lax, confident in his own prowess here in Mexico.

Maybe he feels bolstered by the tawdry promises of the arrogant Baldini boys. The reason for his lack of attention is unimportant, however. All that matters is what happens next.

"Elio?" Marco says to me. His voice sounds hoarse, and as I step closer, I realize that he's inebriated. My grin broadens.

"Hello, Marco," I say to him, my deep voice soft, but thick with threat. "Nice wedding."

"You weren't invited," Marco replies, squaring his shoulders. To his credit, he seems to be recovering rapidly from the shock of seeing me here.

"A little bird told me that someone special is on the guest list today," I say to my enemy, my gaze fixed on him so that I don't miss any move he might make for a weapon.

Surely he's not become so lax as to attend his own wedding unarmed.

"Your little bird must have been confused," Marco says in reply. He crosses his arms over his chest. "This is a family event."

"Well, the special guest I'm thinking of is technically your family," I say. "At least she has been since you knocked her up. I must admit, I was shocked when I learned you never married Kate and that you are now marrying a Baldini. Does your lovely wife know about your little ‘accident'? Grazia's a well-bred little mafia princess. I can't imagine her taking that bit of information well. Your first-born son, a bastard?" I make a tsking noise at him, circling around him slowly as I speak.

Marco snorts at my words. "You imagine everyone is as small-minded and evil as you are, La Rosa," he says scornfully. "Not all of us think of murder every time we have a disagreement with someone we love."

"Did I murder my betrothed when I was confronted with the evidence of her lack of discretion and her lies?" I ask Marco as I circle back to stand before him. "Did I kill you for being willing to help her cheat on me before we were even married?"

Marco sighs. "Surprisingly, you were very restrained." He fingers his nose, which I note isn't as straight as it once was.

I feel a thrill of pleasure that I hurt him, even if I only injured him physically. Usually, I destroy my enemies from the inside out, but I will take what I can get in this instance.

When I found out, all those years ago, that Kate was pregnant something in me broke. Where it seems that my natural instinct in that moment would have been to kill, all I could do was flee.

"You know why I'm here," I say to him. "I want what's mine. You can keep your brat, but I want my betrothed."

"Why do you want Kate after all these years?" Marco asks me. I hear the genuine interest in his voice. "Has it never occurred to you that she might have remarried? Even if you haven't moved on, she has."

I hear a lie in his words and I bare my teeth in something that might be mistaken as a smile.

I would have known if Kate had moved on. She has loved me since we were children. Nothing could overcome that kind of attachment easily.

"You're lying," I say flatly. "And we both know it. Hand Kate over, and I'll leave without causing a scene."

Marco sighs. "And if I say no?"

I laugh. "Oh, you won't say no," I tell him.

I pause in front of him. His arms are still crossed over his chest. I regard him with my head tilted to the side, my lips curving into a soft smile. And then I drive my fist into his face.