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❝ desperate times ❞ ━ DOMENICO ━
Returning home to Italy without Farrah wasn't on my list of things to do this week but desperate times call for desparate measures.
Immediately after stepping off the private jet, I'm met with a familiar face that I'd rather not have to see for years on end. Whenever she appears, she always brings bad news with her.
The barer of bad news also goes by Alessia Ricci. As the daughter of a war-mongering general who turned on his country, she makes it her prerogative to bring me information in exchange for protection over her and her family.
With the many enemies her father has garnered and her experience in the Secret Intelligence Service in England, it wasn't hard to make a deal. She uses her rank and many aliases to get me information on my enemies and those who think they can play me.
We've agreed to not meet unless she has something absolutely vital to my family's safety and survival. For her sake and for mine. However, when she summoned me from Chicago to return home, I knew something was upon us.
"Santino." She greets, her British-Italian accent curt and professional. Her hazel eyes, as piercing as they are, have nothing on Farrah's chocolate brown irises, but that doesn't stop Alessia from staring me down with lustful eyes.
I nod and approach where she stands by the awaiting black SUV, "Ricci. Hoped to not see you again for a while."
She frowns, "Sorry to disappoint, Domenico, but I received some intel from one of my sources in Ukraine."
My jaw ticks and I can't help the annoyance that strikes me. The driver opens the door to the backseat and I usher her in before getting in behind her.
I barely have a moment to settle before she hands me a Manila folder with a low quality surveillance photo as an introduction. The men conversing in the photograph are oddly familiar enough that my brows furrow in concern.
And I don't get concerned over pictures.
"I'm sure the name Aleksandar Kravets sounds familiar?"
Flashes of fire, a missing hand and tongue, and a wasted cigarette plague my mind. Shit.
She points to the balding man when she sees the recognition in my eyes, "That is his highly influential brother, Nazar Kravets. SIS has had a manhunt out on him for years but of course, money and protection doesn't get us anywhere."
"If all you can get is a mere photo... that's of no use to me, Alessia." I scoff and send her a look. A breath hitches in her throat as she shakes her head.
"I have more, Domenico, if you'd allow me to talk." I huff out in amusement, "There's been word that he's seeking revenge for his precious fratellino."
I scoff, "His precious fratellino touched one of my women with a disgusting smirk on his face."
"Well, he's not much different." She pulls another sheet of paper from her bag and hands it to me, "He has a few charges against him - women who apparently don't know better than to piss him off. Those women turned up dead or missing the same night and charges were dropped."
I can feel the anger grow within me as she speaks. Men who use their power to destroy women both spiritually and physically are the highest on my hitlist. My brothers share the same sentiment considering we were raised by the matriarch of Italy it seems.
Speaking of her, upon arrival to my home, I spot her face as she conducts her weekly donations to those who often wander the streets of Italy.
Martina Santino has a heart of gold and a mind of diamonds. She always shines her neverending light on those around her, never flaunts her wealth maliciously, and has contributed to many of the youth centers and homeless shelters here and internationally.
Though her bank account is severely different than it was when she was my age, she hasn't let it change her. She has a beautiful spirit.
"Mr. Santino..." Alessia grips my hand as I move to leave the vehicle. I turn to her with a raised brow. She doesn't have that gentle touch that Farrah does. She clears her throat, "He's desparate. He won't stop until he gets what he wants, which is the man who killed his brother dead."
"You seem to forget," My tone drops as I inch closer to her, "People tend not to fuck with me. I dare him to try."
"That's the thing," Her tone is urgent, "He will. And he won't stop until he takes everything from you. That woman you met in Chicago — he will find her and kill her before killing every single one of you."
My eye twitches at her mention of Farrah, "What woman are you talking about, Alessia?"
She scoffs, not buying my false confusion, "If we can find her, trust me, so will he."
✘
"What's wrong, mon amore?" Mother asks as she lowers herself into the seat across from me. I send her a questioning look. "You started the drinking a little early. It isn't hard to figure it out."
The corner of my lips tilt as I run my finger along the rim of my glass. The tequila is enough to set me up for the rest of the day.
"Nothing for you to worry about." I tell her, watching as she tilts her head.
"Now I'm worried." She sips her water with a slightly amused look on her face, "Anything new in your life?"
"Anything new in yours?"
She rolls her eyes at my deflection, "Usually when you deflected like this in your teenage years, there was a girl involved."
Eye twitch, "I have no clue what you're talking about."
"Chicago has been good to you, Dom. Much better than it treated your father. You got yourself a woman out of it." A woman I might have endangered. "You're happier. Less willing to kill."
A huff of amusement escapes me, "How do you know that?"
"No dead bodies on my doorstep."
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