Chapter 5
"Take them to the lower tack room beneath the south grandstand," Lorenzo ordered Frank without looking back. "Strip their phones. If either of them makes a sound, break their fingers."
"Understood, Don Lorenzo," Frank replied, gesturing to three guards who immediately hauled Marcus and Ramona up by their collars, dragging them through the service corridor like sacks of grain.
Lorenzo turned on his heel and walked toward the paddock gate. The cold fury that had turned him into an executioner melted away the moment his eyes landed on Alina.
Alina was sitting on a wooden bench inside the sheltered breezeway, rocking Lucy in her arms. Her lavender dress was torn at the hem, sand still clinging to her stockings, but her hands were steady as she hummed a soft, comforting lullaby. Lucy had stopped crying, her small head resting against Alina’s shoulder, though her wide hazel eyes were still wet with unshed tears.
Lorenzo approached slowly, lowering his massive frame onto one knee before them. He reached out with his large, calloused hand, gently cupping Lucy’s cheek. His thumb brushed away a streak of dried tears.
"Are you safe, little bird?" Lorenzo asked, his voice filled with an overwhelming, protective warmth.
Lucy sniffled, nodding her head slowly. "Aunt Ramona was mean, Daddy. She pushed Mommy hard."
"Aunt Ramona won't ever come near you again," Lorenzo promised, his eyes locking onto Alina's. "I swear it to you on my life."
He looked at his wife. Alina’s jaw was set with quiet resilience, though her hands trembled slightly against Lucy’s back. She was twenty-three years younger than him, but she had never flinched in the face of the family's brutal world.
"How much did they tell you, Alina?" Lorenzo asked quietly.
Alina took a slow, steady breath. "Before she pushed us, Ramona whispered in my ear. She said Marcus had three speedboats idling at the Greenwich pier. She said a contract was signed with the Moretti syndicate to hit our estate in Bedford at midnight."
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened once, a sharp ripple of muscle beneath his dark stubble. "The Morettis. They thought they could use my own cousins to clear the board."
"They don't want just the territory, Lorenzo," Alina said, her voice dropping to a fierce, urgent whisper. "Ramona said they needed Lucy. They wanted to hold our daughter as leverage to force you to sign over the Atlantic shipping ports."
Lorenzo reached inside his tailored suit jacket and unclipped a compact, matte-black automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. He placed it gently into Alina’s handbag, clicking the clasp shut.
"Valerio and six of my best men are taking you and Lucy to the armored vault in the clubhouse," Lorenzo said, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against her forehead. "Lock the steel door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me."
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"Lorenzo, be careful," Alina pleaded, grabbing his wrist. Her fingers brushed against his heavy signet ring. "Marcus wouldn't be this bold unless he had soldiers already on the grounds."
"Let them be here," Lorenzo murmured, standing to his full height, his eyes turning to black ice once more. "I need fresh fertilizer for the polo fields."
