Chapter 8 Bought Bride

Nicholas POV

I sigh deeply. This is exactly why I don't want Cherry marrying Vincent. He's perpetually in trouble. If Cherry became his wife, he'd likely take out his frustrations on her after facing setbacks elsewhere.

"Which bar?"

Vincent names a place downtown. I end the call and immediately instruct Leo to gather men and arrange transportation to the place.

I lead the procession through the doors. The scene inside is chaotic—broken glass, overturned tables, and in the center, Vincent curled on the floor surrounded by a mixed group of men and women kicking and shouting at him.

Our entrance creates an immediate shift in the atmosphere. The music cuts, conversations halt, and the attackers freeze mid-motion. Twenty-five suited men flooding into a bar tends to have that effect.

The group harassing Vincent backs away, forming a defensive line. At their center stands a woman with electric blue hair, her makeup smeared from exertion. Behind her, several men puff out their chests, attempting bravado.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Blue Hair demands.

One of her companions, a muscular man in an expensive but rumpled suit, steps forward. "This is Rossi territory. We don't care how many suits you bring."

I scan the scene with clinical detachment. So this is what had Vincent screaming for help? A handful of Rossi underlings and a woman with a fashion sense as questionable as her choice in men?

My expression remains neutral as I unbutton my suit jacket. "What seems to be the problem?"

The blue-haired woman points accusingly at Vincent, who's now attempting to stand. "That drunk piece of shit grabbed my ass and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. When I pushed him off, he spilled his drink on my dress and called me a whore."

Typical Vincent. I don't bother looking at my nephew.

"We're just teaching him some respect," one of the men adds. "So, unless you want trouble with the Rossi, I suggest you walk away."

My lips curl into what might pass for a smile if not for the coldness in my eyes. Without warning, I move. I have one man's arm twisted behind his back and another gasping on his knees from a strike to the solar plexus. Neither saw me coming.

The room goes still. I release the first man with a shove and step back, unhurried. From my inner pocket, I withdraw a Cuban cigar and a gold lighter. The flame illuminates my face as I take my time lighting it.

Recognition dawns in the eyes of one of the men, his face draining of color. "M-Mr. Salvatore... I didn't know it was you..."

"Clearly." I take a long drag, then press the lit end against his cheek. His scream pierces the silence as the smell of burning flesh mingles with tobacco. Before anyone can react, my foot connects with his knee—the sickening crack is audible.

I address the group, smoke curling from my lips. "Tell Rossi the next time he sends his dogs, he should make sure they know which wolves they're barking at."

The blue-haired woman takes a step back, suddenly understanding the gravity of her situation. Her companions help their injured; all previous bravado evaporated.

Leo leans in. "Sir, should we...?"

I shake my head slightly. "Not necessary." My attention turns to Vincent, who's now standing, blood trickling from his split lip. "Let's go."

The Rossi crew scuttles away like cockroaches when the light comes on. I grab Vincent by his collar and steer him toward the exit. "This is San Laurent, not Chicago," I mutter. "Don't cause any more trouble."

Once in the car, Vincent attempts a smile that comes across as a grimace. "Uncle, thank you. When we get back, please don't mention this to anyone..."

"I have something to discuss with you," I cut him off. "About the meeting with the Millers in two days."

Vincent's posture relaxes. "Oh, the engagement. Just a formality, right? That girl... What's her name? Cherry, isn't it? I saw her picture. Pretty enough. She'll make a nice canary in the cage back home."

I stare at him, feeling something dangerous stir within me. "I fucked your canary."

Vincent blinks, processing my words. "Uncle, come on, let's be civil here. I know calling her a canary isn't nice, but you don't need to use that language—"

"I fucked Cherry," I interrupt, each word deliberate and clear. "WE HAD SEX."

Vincent's jaw drops, genuine shock replacing his usual smug expression. "Uncle, you... you fucked my fiancée? How could you? She's supposed to be mine!"

"You haven't even met her yet," I point out calmly.

Vincent's shock quickly morphs into theatrical distress. "I finally find a decent match, beautiful as an angel, and you... how could you do this to your own nephew? Have you no conscience?"

"Ten million," I say flatly.

Vincent pauses mid-lament. "This isn't about money, Uncle, this is about—"

"Twenty."

"You're committing incest! Twenty isn't enough for—"

"Final offer. Thirty million."

Vincent instantly grabs my hand. "Deal!"

I write out a check for thirty million dollars as compensation. Vincent takes it with barely concealed glee, promising to refer to Cherry as Aunt from now on.

"I'll need you to play along at the meeting," I inform him. "Make it look like you're stepping aside willingly."

Vincent snorts, his earlier injuries seemingly forgotten. "Why would I even show up? You've already slept with her. Besides, that girl is just a bargaining chip anyway."

My gaze snaps to him. "What did you say?"

Too stupid to recognize the danger, Vincent continues. "What? Did I say something wrong? Or should I tell her all about it? I don't mind eating your lefto—"

"The family has an alligator farm on Lake Michigan," I say, my tone conversational. "I've been considering whether they need fresh feeding."

Vincent's face goes slack with fear. He raises his hands in surrender.

After dropping him off, I return to my temporary residence, where Leo awaits with a folder. "The Miller family investigation results, sir."

I scan through the documents, my expression darkening with each page:

Arthur had been involved with Brittany's best friend Jenna before marriage, fathering a son named Oscar. Then Arthur suddenly announced his engagement to Brittany, causing Jenna to fall into depression. She committed suicide while pregnant.

Sharon, now Arthur's mistress, is Jenna's sister. After Jenna's death, Oscar was raised in Jenna's family. Arthur visited his son frequently and eventually began a relationship with Sharon, fathering a daughter named Candy.

Brittany's marriage to Arthur apparently stemmed from her family company's financial crisis. Now Miller Manufacturing faces bankruptcy and massive debt, desperately needing our investment.

I close the file. History is repeating itself in the most tragic ways. Brittany's life was destroyed by family obligations and Arthur's selfishness. Now Cherry seems positioned to become the next sacrifice.

Except there's one crucial difference this time: me.

I won't let anyone hurt Cherry. Not her father, not Vincent, not anyone.

She's mine to protect now.