Chapter 9
The swift, tactical mobilization of the Bellucci bodyguards was a terrifying sight in the bright, cinematic daylight. Dozens of men in dark suits moved with lethal precision, systematically surrounding the terrified guests and immediately isolating anyone affiliated with the Cross family.
Marcus Cross, groaning and clutching his fractured ribs, was hauled roughly out from the shattered remains of the champagne bar by two massive guards. He was thrown to his knees on the grass beside his sobbing sister. The arrogant, ambitious capo was now nothing more than a bleeding prisoner on the very lawn he had hoped to one day rule.
"Dominic, you can't do this!" Marcus coughed, spitting blood onto the pristine grass. "The Commission will not sanction this! We came here in peace to celebrate a union! You are breaking the treaty!"
Dominic did not even turn around to address him. He remained focused entirely on his daughter.
He walked over to Vincent, gently taking Aria back into his arms. The little girl rested her head on his broad shoulder, her small hand clutching her mother's gold wedding band securely against her chest. Her worn, scuffed flats dangled against his expensive tailored suit.
"You broke the treaty," Dominic murmured, speaking softly to his daughter but projecting his voice so the traitor could hear. "The moment you allowed your sister to lay a hand on my blood... you signed your own death warrants."
He kissed the top of Aria’s head, his deeply masculine, terrifying aura softening completely for the child.
"Take her inside, Vincent," Dominic instructed gently. "Have Elena draw her a warm bath. And ensure she has everything she needs. I want guards stationed outside her door at all times."
"I won't leave her side, Boss," Vincent promised, carefully taking the exhausted three-year-old into his protective embrace. He turned and swiftly carried Aria back into the safety of the massive estate.
With his daughter secured, Dominic turned his cold, sharp eyes back to the prisoners kneeling in the grass.
"The Cross family relies on our shipping lanes," Dominic stated, his voice a low, vibrating hum of pure strategy. He looked at his remaining capos. "Cut them off. Freeze all joint accounts. I want their warehouses raided by midnight. Seize everything of value and burn the rest to the ground."
"Dominic, please!" Vivienne shrieked, scrambling forward on her knees until she was stopped by a guard's heavy boot. "We have nothing else! If you take the warehouses, my father will be ruined!"
"Your father," Dominic said, walking slowly toward her, his polished shoes crunching on broken glass, "should have taught his children how to behave in my home."
He stopped a few feet away, looking down at the ruined siblings. The bright colors of the garden felt like a grotesque mockery of their despair.
"You thought you could marry into power," Dominic whispered, the controlled pauses in his speech highlighting his absolute dominance. "You thought my daughter was an inconvenience you could simply bully into submission. You severely underestimated... exactly what kind of man I am."
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"What are you going to do to us?" Marcus wheezed, his eyes wide with unadulterated terror as he stared up at the handsome, movie-star face of the man who was about to order his execution.
"I am going to keep you alive," Dominic replied softly, a dark, chilling smile touching his lips. "For now. Because I want you to watch... as I dismantle your entire family's legacy, piece... by bloody piece."
