I grab the back of his tailored suit jacket and the collar of his shirt in one massive fist. I rip him away from Noemi with such violent force that his feet leave the stone tiles.
"Cassio!" Noemi gasps, her hands flying to her mouth.
I pivot, utilizing my entire body weight, and hurl Dario across the terrace. He crashes into a wrought-iron patio table. The heavy glass top shatters into a thousand pieces with a deafening, explosive crash. Dario hits the ground hard, groaning as he rolls into the shards of glass.
I don't stop. I stalk toward him, my hands curled into fists, every muscle in my body vibrating with a homicidal urge to beat him until his face is unrecognizable.
"You touch her again," I roar, my voice carrying over the music spilling from the ballroom, "and I will cut your fucking hands off and feed them to you, Lombardi!"
Dario scrambles backward, his face is pale, blood is dripping from a shallow cut on his forehead where the glass caught him. He holds his hands up in terror. "Wait! Cassio, wait, we were just talking!"
"Liar!" I snarl. I reach down, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, and haul him to his feet just so I can slam him violently against the brick wall of the estate. The breath leaves his lungs in a sharp, pained wheeze.
The glass doors of the terrace burst open.
"What the hell is going on out here?!" Don Lombardi shouts, his face is purple with outrage as he sees his son pinned to the wall.
Half a dozen Lombardi soldiers spill out onto the terrace, their weapons drawn. Instantly, Matteo, Gianni, and four of my own men step through the doors, their guns raised and leveled directly at the Lombardi men.
A Mexican standoff on neutral ground. A diplomatic nightmare.
"Stand down!" Don Salvatore’s booming, authoritative voice echoes from the doorway. The Capo dei Capi steps onto the terrace, his black eyes blazing with fury. He looks at the drawn weapons, then at the shattered table, and finally at me. "Cassio. Release the boy. Now."
I don't let go. I lean in closer to Dario, my forearm pressing brutally against his windpipe.
"You are breathing on borrowed time," I whisper, making sure only Dario can hear the absolute certainty of his own death in my voice. "Stay away from my wife."
I shove him away in disgust. Dario collapses, coughing against the brick wall, his father rushing forward to grab him.
I turn around. Don Salvatore is glaring at me, the threat of excommunication heavy in the air. I don't care. I wipe a drop of Dario’s blood from my knuckles with the thumb of my other hand, my chest heaving.
I walk past the drawn guns, past the furious Capos, straight to where Noemi is standing frozen by the balustrade.
I wrap my hand securely around her waist, pulling her flush against my side. I look directly at Don Salvatore.
"My apologies for the disruption, Don Salvatore," I say, my tone is completely unapologetic. "But my wife and I are leaving."
Before the old man can issue a reprimand, I guide Noemi forcefully through the glass doors, through the dead-silent ballroom, and out the front doors of the Lombardi estate.
16
Noemi
The heavy, armored door of the Maybach slams shut, sealing us inside a pitch-black tomb of leather and tension.
Outside the tinted windows, the Lombardi estate shrinks as Dante slams his foot onto the gas pedal, tearing the massive car down the winding driveway. Matteo is in the passenger seat, his posture rigid, already barking rapid-fire Sicilian into his radio to coordinate the escort vehicles following us.
I sit as far away from Cassio as the plush leather allows, my back pressed against the cold door. My chest is heaving, my hands are shaking so violently I have to ball them into fists in my lap to keep them still. The crimson silk of my dress feels too tight, restricting the frantic, shallow breaths clawing at my throat.
Cassio sits beside me, a towering silhouette in the shadows. He is radiating a heat so intense, a violence so raw and untamed, it feels like sitting next to a live explosive. His jaw is clenched so tight I can hear the faint grinding of his teeth over the hum of the engine. He reaches up and violently rips the bowtie from his collar, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt with jerky, erratic movements.
The adrenaline from the terrace finally reaches its boiling point.
"Are you completely out of your mind?!" I explode, unable to hold the words back a second longer. I twist in my seat to face him, hurling my small evening bag onto the floorboards. "You nearly started a war, Cassio! Over nothing!"
His head snaps toward me. Even in the dim light of the passing streetlamps, his pitch-black eyes are terrifying.
"Nothing?" he snarls, closing the distance between us in a single, fluid lunge. He doesn't touch me, but he crowds my space until his chest is inches from mine. "He was touching you! He had his hands on you!"