Chapter 90: Lorenzo

POV: LORENZO

In Rome, Lorenzo Russo sat in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand, reviewing the same surveillance reports Isabella had been sent.

Dimitri and Eve. Together. In love. Building a future. Which he finds unacceptable.

The Russo-Valentino alliance was worth billions. Territories. Power. Influence that spanned continents. And his daughter, his carefully groomed, perfectly trained daughter had allowed some nobody to steal it.

His wife Sophia entered without knocking.

"You were too harsh with her," Sophia said, sitting across from him.

"I was honest. She’s failing."

"She’s adapting. Building something with Enzo. That’s not failure, that’s strategy."

"It’s SETTLING." Lorenzo’s voice was hard. "We didn’t raise Isabella to settle.

We raised her to be a queen. The queen. Dimitri Valentino’s queen."

"And if she can’t get him back?"

"Then she’s no daughter of mine." Lorenzo took a drink. "I’ve already set contingencies in motion."

Sophia’s eyes sharpened. "What contingencies?"

"If Isabella can’t handle Eve Thorne, I will."

"Lorenzo, no. If you move against that girl, Dimitri will....."

"Dimitri will what? Go to war with the Russos? Over some American nobody?"

Lorenzo smiled, cold and calculating. "He’s in love. Love makes men stupid. Sentimental. He won’t risk open war over a woman he’s known for two months."

"You’re underestimating him."

"And you’re overestimating his attachment. Mark my words, Sophia, within six months, either Isabella will have him back, or Eve Thorne will be dead. One way or another."

Sophia studied her husband for a long moment.

"You’re giving Isabella six months?"

"Six months to prove she’s a Russo. To prove she has what it takes." Lorenzo’s eyes were like flint. "After that, I handle it my way."

"And what is your way?"

"You don’t want to know."

Sophia stood, moved to the door.

"Don’t underestimate our daughter, Lorenzo. You raised her to be ruthless.

Don’t be surprised when she proves it."

"I’m counting on it."

***

After his wife left, Lorenzo pulled up a photo on his computer.

Eve Thorne. Smiling. Beautiful. Completely unaware of the forces aligning against her.

He made a call.

A number in Naples. Someone who specialized in problems that needed to disappear.

"This is Russo. I need deep surveillance on a target in the States. Eve Thorne. I want everything. Her patterns. Her weaknesses. Her breaking points." A pause. "And I want contingency plans. Multiple scenarios. Kidnapping. Accident. Disappearance. I want options ready to deploy at a moment’s notice."

"Timeline?"

"Six months. But have plans ready within one."

"Cost?"

"Irrelevant. Bill me whatever it takes."

"Understood, Mr. Russo."

Lorenzo ended the call, finished his whiskey.

Isabella would try her way first. Subtle. Strategic. Patient.

But if she failed....

Lorenzo Russo didn’t leave things to chance.

Eve Thorne had six months to voluntarily remove herself from Dimitri’s life.

After that, Lorenzo would remove her himself.

***

POV: EVE

The restaurant was intimate...low lighting, soft jazz, tables spaced far enough apart for private conversations.

Dimitri had reserved the entire back section, as he always did, For privacy he had said. The ability to speak freely without being overheard.

Eve sat across from him, watching candlelight play across his features, and felt something warm unfurl in her chest.

Three days since the Hartford situation. Three days since he’d offered Enzo and Isabella territories and thought he’d neutralized the threat.

Three days of relative peace.

"What are you thinking?" Dimitri asked, his hand finding hers across the table.

"That I’m happy." She laced their fingers together. "That despite everything....the danger, the drama, the threats...I wouldn’t change any of it. Because it brought me here. To you."

His eyes softened in a way they only did for her. "Cara mia."

"Also," she added with a smile, "I’m thinking that this dress was a tactical error."

Dimitri’s gaze dropped to the emerald green evening gown he’d selected for her.....a sleek, form-fitting number with a dangerously low neckline and a slit up her thigh.

"How so?"

"Because you’ve been looking at me like you want to devour me since we sat down. And we still have dessert."

"Skip dessert." His voice dropped to that dark velvet tone that made her thighs clench. "I have something much sweeter in mind."

Heat flooded through her. "Dimitri..."

"I’ve been sitting here for two hours watching you in that dress. Watching other men look at you. Watching you lick tiramisu off your spoon." His thumb stroked across her knuckles. "I’m approximately five seconds from bending you over this table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant."

Eve’s breath caught. "We’re in public."

"I own this restaurant. I can do whatever I want."

"Dimitri Valentino, you will not...."

He stood, pulled her to her feet with easy strength. "Marco. We’re leaving."

Marco appeared immediately from his position near the door. "Yes, boss."

"But we didn’t...." Eve started.

"Now, Eve." Dimitri’s voice was absolute. "Unless you want me to make good on that threat about the table."

She grabbed her clutch, let him guide her toward the exit, her pulse racing.

The second they were in the back of the Aston Martin, Marco in the driver’s seat, partition currently down, Dimitri pulled her against him.

"Dimitri, Marco’s right there..."

"Then you’ll have to be quiet." His hand slid under the slit of her dress, found the edge of her panties. "Can you do that, cara mia? Can you stay silent while I make you come?"

"We can’t...oh God..." Her protest died as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding her already wet.

"So responsive." He circled her clit with maddening precision. "Always so ready for me."

Eve bit her lip, trying desperately to stay quiet as his fingers worked her. The car pulled into traffic, Marco’s eyes carefully on the road, pretending not to notice.

"Spread your legs wider," Dimitri whispered in her ear. "Let me in."

She obeyed, her thighs falling open, and he rewarded her by sliding two fingers inside.

Eve’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling the moan that tried to escape.

"That’s it, baby. Nice and quiet." His fingers curled, found that spot that made her see stars. "We’re still fifteen minutes from home. Think you can last that long without screaming?"

She shook her head frantically.

"No?" His thumb pressed against her clit while his fingers pumped. "Then I guess you’ll just have to try very hard."