The Hitman's Mark

6. Weak

VALENTINA

"Kneel before I cut your fucking tongue out," Matteo warned.

A chill cascaded down the length of Val's spine, and she fought the urge to sway back on her heels and press against the unyielding man standing inches behind her. At the same time, she wanted to clobber him over the head with her purse, claim that she had the situation with Mario handled, and demand that he return to his beautiful lady-friend across the club.

Of course, that would've been a lie. Val didn't have the situation with Mario handled. He'd just told her to dance on a freakin' pole, for goodness' sake. The situation had been spiraling out of control.

"Are you going to make me ask you again?" Matteo seethed, and satisfaction curled in Val's stomach as Mario scrambled out of his seat.

The whites of Mario's eyes expanded until Val thought they might pop out of his head, and he lifted both hands in the universal sign of innocence. "Signor Costa, I-I didn't know — This girl said she wanted to see the books."

Matteo cocked his head to the side, the movement more animal than human. He took a slow step forward, brushing Val's shoulder with his own. "This girl is Valentina fucking Romano. Daughter and heir of the boss. Get on your knees and apologize."

"Heir?" Mario gaped, his muddy brown eyes flashing to Val.

She offered him a sickly sweet smile and twirled her fingers in a wicked wave.

"Should I tell my papà that you wanted me to dance on a pole for you, Mario?" she cooed, batting her thick eyelashes and sticking out her bottom lip.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matteo's broad shoulders stiffen, as if he hadn't heard the extent of Mario's demands before he arrived at the bar. Matteo took another step closer, a predator closing in on his prey, and casually reached a hand to the back of his waistband. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't blast a hole in your tongue, verme."

Val's heart lurched into her throat as Matteo pulled a handgun out of the carefully concealed holster.

Mario practically sobbed, retreating a step only to run into the bar. When he had nowhere else to go, he dropped to his knees. Sweat glistened on his temple, and tears glossed the surface of his eyes as he turned his face away from Matteo and toward Val, pleading. "P-Please! Signorina! Forgive me!"

Val narrowed her eyes and sucked on her canine tooth, deliberating. She enjoyed Mario's desperation more than she cared to admit. Enjoyed watching him squirm after he'd done the same to her. Reveled in the power that she held over another's life...

Matteo cocked the gun, and Mario clamped his eyes shut. "Please!"

Val blinked.

She didn't want this. She didn't want a man to die over a single insult. A wave of nausea threatened to climb up Val's throat, and she stepped forward, placing a hand on the back of Matteo's shoulder. He froze beneath her touch, but did not lower his gun.

"Matteo," she breathed his name, careful to hide any shake in her voice. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed her fingers more firmly into his shoulder, grounding herself in the warmth beneath his t-shirt. "Stand down," she commanded.

At first, he didn't move.

He glanced sideways at her, and Val's pulse dropped at the murderous glint in his brown eyes. The eyes of a killer — of a man who viewed life as dispensable and had no problem dealing the ultimate punishment for the smallest crime. The eyes of a Cosa Nostra hitman.