Damian groaned, rolling onto his side and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the white floor.
He looked up, his lip split and his eye already swelling, but he was laughing.
"There he is," Damian wheezed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The big, bad Capo, losing his cool. I knew you'd come. Guilt is a powerful motivator, isn't it, fratello?"
Matteo stalked toward him, his boots crunching on the broken glass.
He grabbed Damian by the collar and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall with enough force to make the paintings rattle.
The attendees at the party had stopped dancing. They retreated back.
"You had to say it," Matteo hissed, his voice a low vibration. "You had to bring up the Castellano name. You had to poison her with a history she wasn't supposed to know for another ten years."
Damian's grin widened, revealing blood-stained teeth.
