But then his father, Franco Benedetti, head of the family and a man I thoroughly despised, approached. He didn’t even try to hide his enjoyment of the situation.

I cleared my throat, finally finding my voice. “Why are you here? You have no right.” I heard my question, knew it was the same one I’d asked my sister.

“I came to give you my condolences.”

Franco leaned in, looking around as if we were somehow coconspirators.

“Actually,” he started, his tone lower, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I didn’t think. I didn’t do anything but feel the anger, the hot rage as it bubbled over inside me. My hands clenched into fists, and I spat at his shoe. Except he moved at the last moment, and I missed. When I looked up, Salvatore’s face showed his shock, and Franco’s was quickly reddening, showing his fury. Although I stood my ground, my heart jackhammered against my chest. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hit me. Hell, between this and my comment to Isabella, maybe that’s what I was going for.

Salvatore gripped my arm. “Apologize.”

“No,” I replied, my eyes locked on his father’s black gaze.

Dominic, Salvatore’s brother, who’d stood watching from a few feet away, approached. He had a smile on his face as he put his arm around his father’s shoulders. Salvatore tensed beside me.

“We’re getting some attention. Come on, Paps. Let’s go.”

I met Dominic’s gaze, and I would have sworn he was enjoying the spectacle.

“Apologize.” Salvatore’s grip tightened around my arm.

I cocked my head to the side. “I’m sorry I missed,” I said, a grin spreading across my face.

Dominic’s eyebrows shot up, and Salvatore muttered a curse under his breath.

“Let’s go,” Dominic said just when I thought his father would explode.

“In.” Salvatore’s other hand gripped my waist as he pushed me into the sedan.

“Get your hands off me,” I said, trying to force him off.

He climbed in beside me and pulled the car door shut. The driver started the engine. Salvatore transferred his grip to my knee, his eyes burning a hole through me. “That was a very stupid thing to do.” His fingers bit into my flesh.

I had nothing to say. In fact, all I could do was shake violently. I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Turn down the air conditioning,” he told the driver, his gaze still locked on mine.

I wished it were the cold that had me shivering.

“Yes, sir,” the driver said.

Being so close, seeing him again, it was too much, too intense. It brought too many memories back and foretold a future I did not want.

“You’re hurting me.”