Dark Mafia Heir: Chapter 14

Vivienne has been ignoring me since breakfast this morning. She doesn’t like the idea of having bodyguards because she knows too well that I’m trying to keep her from escaping.

I could see right through her last night, and I could tell she’d enraged me on purpose. She’d thought giving me her virginity would be enough to earn my trust, but that is one thing she’ll never have, even if she gives up her life for me.

She is Peter Cole’s daughter, my enemy by nature. I’ll never trust; it’ll snow in hell before I even let her within an inch to my heart.

Sexual attraction and love are two different things. I’ve never felt the latter, and I’m more than certain I will never feel that way for her. No matter what she does or how crazy she drives me.

My heart will never beat faster or fluster for her, no matter how hard it is to keep my eyes off her or the thought of her legs crossed around my waist off my mind.

The driver pulls over at the parking lot of a three-story shopping mall and we both climb out of the car.

Vivienne stares up at the tall, white building towering above us, and her lips curl with a wicked smile. “I’ve heard a lot about this place. Most of the designer companies have a store in this building, am I right?”

I nod.

The place is far away from Peter’s and Salvatore’s territory. No one will recognize her here.

She hisses. “I wonder how many women you’ve been with know this place. Man whore.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “What did you just call me?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. Did you hear me say anything?”

I heard her, but I pretended I didn’t. She’s trying to get on my nerves—she’s good at it. But I won’t let her, not while we’re in public.

“I’ll warn you, though, I’m a big shopper, and I like expensive things,” she says with a lopsided grin before walking away gingerly as if she owns the entire word.

My brow quirks, and a smile curls my lips before I can stop it. No woman has ever dared to warn me or act like this to me, but Vivienne is not just any woman, I suppose. She’s a thorn in my flesh, one that infuriates me deeply yet somehow softens the part of my heart I didn’t even know I possessed.

I should hate her, but I can’t. There’s just something about this woman I find intoxicating. Maybe it’s her fierceness. I’m not too sure yet.

I follow her inside, walking closely beside her as one of the bodyguards leads the way inside. Vivienne is wrong. I only know this place because I’d done a ton of research about the best shopping mall around the city, and this is the result I came up with.

My relationship with women has always been fairly the same. Meet at the club, suck my cock in my office, and be on your way. Vivienne is the only woman who’s been successful at making me shop with her, even though I can sense she hates every bit of my presence around her.

It’s fine, though. I love her presence, and that is all that matters.

I catch two men in a corner ogling her from where they’re standing. One of them has his eyes on her ass as we walk by.

Rage filters through my system, and I’m suddenly possessed by jealousy and the need to protect what it is. I wrap my arm around Vivienne, marking my territory.

We’re out in public, so that is all I can do. On a good day, those bastardi would have lost their fucking lives by now. She’s my wife, and I would rather they keep their disgusting gazes to themselves.

Vivienne’s gaze flits to my hand on her shoulder, then she glances up at me, her eyes filled with curiosity. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Don’t ask questions and keep moving, gattina. I don’t have all day to hang around with you,” I say, struggling to sound as if I’m not thinking of a million ways I could torture those bastards behind before I kill them.

Aiutami, Cristo! Help me, Christ.

We arrive at the store she’ll be shopping from moments later and Vivienne takes in the place in awe. She’s Peter Cole’s daughter, which means she usually shop in places like this, so I doubt her expression is shock at how expensive the place is.

“Why are we the only ones here?” she notices.

I spot the store manager and two other women as they approach us with wide smiles. “I reserved the entire store for you. I need you to be comfortable while you shop.”

Her laughter hangs heavy in the air, as if she’s calling my bullshit. “Really? I think you reserved this entire place, so people won’t find out you’re nothing but a criminal.”

The store manager reaches us before I can think of a comeback for her.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mancini,” the manager, Grace, greets with a smile. She turns to Vivienne. “Mrs.—” she trails off as if she isn’t sure if to refer to Vivienne as my wife or not.

“My wife, Vivienne,” I introduce.

“Ah.” Grace’s smile widens. “Welcome to our store, Mrs. Mancini. We have a lot of new arrivals. What would you like us to show you first?”

“I’m a sucker for red heels and black dresses,” Vivienne answers, smiling back. “You can show me either of those first.”

I don’t realize I’m no longer breathing as I stare at Vivienne. I hate how I’m a total idiot around this woman.

Dante’s rotting in his grave six feet under. Peter Cole is running around, hale and hearty. I should be torturing his daughter, breaking her until he has no other option than to tell me what I am, but here I am, losing myself every time she smiles.

It’s hard to resist this feeling, not with the way her eyes crinkle and her cheeks double in size when she smiles. Not with the way her skin glows under the overhead light. No woman I’ve ever met holds a candle to her.

I sit in the waiting room while she picks out several bags, shoes, and dresses to match her taste. An hour passes, and then another thirty minutes before she finally steps into the waiting room wearing a long, black dress with a deep v-cut in front and a slit to the right that runs down the entire leg.

My mouth drops, and my eyes devour her ravenously. She looks ravishing in that dress, and the way it highlights her curves and everything… Mio Dio, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She notices because scarlet red burns her cheeks, and she bites her bottom lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks in a voice that is barely above a whisper.

“You look breathtaking in that dress.” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them. Dammit, I don’t even think I want to stop them.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice shaky with nerves.

I wonder if she’s feeling the same way I do. If her insides are burning with a ravenous need for me. If every hair on the back of her neck is rising and her core is throbbing, aching, and dying for a feel of me.

Because mine is.

Every cell in my money is on fire. My cock keeps twitching, and my pulse is beating at a rate that could send me straight to hell. My thoughts are unholy, and only she—Vivienne—can make me well again.

My gaze drops to the pair of red shoes she’s holding.

She holds the shoes forward. “I want these.”

I narrow my eyes on her, confused. “So? Get them.”

“They cost three thousand dollars,” she says, watching me for a reaction. “Are you sure you can afford to get them for me? I mean, I’ve wanted them for a while, but I can⁠—”

“I said, get them,” I repeat. “Get whatever you want.”

“I’ll max out your credit card.”

A chuckle rips from my throat. She has no freaking idea how much I spend in bars some nights. Fifty of those shoes won’t even come close to maxing out my card. “That’s a challenge I welcome, gattina. I’ll hold you to your words.”

She squints and basically starts to feast on her lower lips. She looks even more confused than I was seconds ago. “You sure you’re not gonna regret saying that?”

Striding over to her, I gently push her down on the sofa and take the shoes from her.

She tries to stand, but I don’t allow her as I take one of her feet and slide off the slippers she’s wearing. God, even her foot is pretty and soft. Is there a part of this woman that is not perfect?

I take out one of the shoes she brought in and help her put it on, and then I do the same with the second pair.

She tenses to my touch, her eyes wide and searching mine.

When I’m done with the shoes, I stand up and hold a hand out to her.

A moment passes before she finally takes my hands and stands up. She’s only tall enough to reach my shoulders, even in those heels.

“Those shoes were made for you, baby,” I whisper as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. “And I never regret anything I say.”

We’re done shopping and driving back home an hour later. Vivienne is ecstatic to show Agatha the dress she got for her. We also stopped by a jewelry store to get a bracelet for Ginny.

I like how she cares for everyone—how she wants to share whatever she got with the people around her.

We’re driving through the highway when the driver suddenly starts over-speeding and glancing at the rearview mirror.

“There’s a problem, boss,” he says calmly. It’s a common rule in the Mafia. Panic is the enemy of logic. It does more harm than good when a person is in a dangerous situation. “I think we’re being followed.”

I whip my head around to stare at the cars behind up. They’re all the same black Mercedes with tinted windows, and they’re driving at a high speed.

He’s right, we’re being followed.

I take out a gun from a spot under the car seat where I store them for emergencies.

“What is happening?” Vivienne asks with a panicked voice.

I cork my gun. “We’re being followed. Get down, and don’t raise your head until it’s over.”

She nods and does as I say.

The bodyguard on the passenger seat calls the others to alert them of the situation so they’re on guard if anything happens.

The tires screech as the impact from behind jolts us forward. I grit my teeth, keeping my grip on the gun firm. The car swerves slightly, but our driver maintains control, steering us back into the center of the lane.

“Hold on!” the driver barks, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Another crash. This time, they ram us from the side, trying to force us off the road. My jaw tightens, adrenaline spiking as I glance at Vivienne crouched low in the seat, clutching the dress bag like it’s a lifeline. Her trust in me to protect her fuels the fire roaring in my chest.

“Step on it,” I command, my tone sharp.

The driver nods and accelerates, weaving through the traffic on the highway. The engine roars, and the speedometer needle climbs. My men in the other cars will catch up soon, but we’re on our own for now.

“Boss, they’re trying to box us in!” the bodyguard in the passenger seat shouts, pointing to the black Mercedes closing in from either side.

I roll the window down and lean out slightly, taking aim. The wind howls in my ears, but my focus narrows to the target—the driver in one of the cars chasing us. I fire. The windshield of the Mercedes cracks, and the car veers off course, slamming into a barrier.

“Good shot!” the bodyguard yells. But there’s no time to celebrate. Another car pulls up, and the muzzle of a gun glints through its open window. A barrage of bullets pelts our vehicle.

“Down!” I shout, ducking as the windows shatter. Shards of glass rain over us, but I don’t care. My priority is to get Vivienne out of this safe.

The driver turns sharply onto an exit ramp, tires screeching as we narrowly avoid slamming into a truck. The maneuver throws off one of the enemy’s cars, but two others stay on our tail.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. It’s Lorenzo. “We’re two minutes out,” he says.

“We don’t have two minutes!” I snap, ending the call.

The second Mercedes comes alongside us. Its passenger leans out, gun in hand. I don’t give him a chance. I fire three quick shots, and he slumps forward. Their car swerves and collides with the one behind it, taking both out of the chase.

Only one left.

The driver floors it, and we speed onto a narrow stretch of road. The final car closes in, its front bumper nearly kissing ours. My bodyguard fires at their tires but misses. They ram us again, and we spin briefly before the driver regains control.

Enough of this.

“Slow down,” I order. The driver hesitates but complies, letting the enemy’s car pull alongside us. I aim carefully, waiting until their window aligns with mine. The moment it does, I shoot. The bullet finds its mark—their driver. The Mercedes swerves violently before crashing into a guardrail.

Silence.

Our car slows to a stop on the side of the road. I glance back at Vivienne, who’s still crouched low. “It’s over,” I say, my voice softer now. She looks up, her emerald eyes wide with fear and something else—relief, maybe?

The convoy of our cars pulls up moments later. Lorenzo jumps out, scanning the scene. “You good, boss?”

I nod, handing him my gun. “Clean this up. I’m taking her home.”

Vivienne looks at me as I settle back into my seat. Her hands tremble, but she says nothing. She doesn’t have to.

The horror in her eyes is enough for me to decipher what she wants to say. The lying half-dead in the smoking Mercedes works for her father. He’d somehow figured out we’d be here and sent them to retrieve his daughter.

If he thought getting her back would be that simple, then he underestimates me. I need to get a message across to him in a language he’ll understand.

I slide out of my seat and round the car to drag Vivienne out of hers. “Do you recognize any of these Italian bastards?”

She shakes her head. She has the guts to lie despite the obvious fear in her eyes and the way her body’s trembling. “No… I… I don’t recognize any of them.”

I smirk. My little wife is not a good liar. “That will make my job easier then.” I fill my gun with more bullets and point it to one of the men, but she grabs my hand just as I’m about to pull the trigger.

“What are you doing?” she yells.

“Getting rid of them.” I scrutinize her expression. “They tried to kill us. I should make sure that never happens again, shouldn’t I?”

She huffs out a shaky breath. “You can’t do that.”

I cock my brow. “Why?”

“Because…” She pauses, and her throat bobs as she swallows. “They’re… my father’s men.”

“So, you lied to me?”

“I couldn’t just let you kill them,” she shoots back, her eyes wild with rage. “I thought you’d hurt them if you knew.”

I chuckle at her naivety this time around. “Their fates were decided the moment they decided to chase my car, gattina. Only one of them will be leaving here alive.”

A shot rings in the air as I pull the trigger on the first guy.

Vivienne screams, but Luca holds her back before she can lunge at me. “No! Antonio, don’t!”

It’s a little too late for that as I pull the trigger three more times until only one of the men is left.

Prowling towards him, I drop to a squat in front of him and press the gun to his temple. “Tell Peter I’ll be sending his daughter’s head to him if he pulls a shit stunt like this again.”