Soulless Devil (Sons of Valentino #3)(38)

“What has Romeo told you about our family?” he questions me instead.

“Nothing. Why?” Romeo really hasn’t said anything about his family, and honestly, I’ve been burying my head in the sand when it comes to the information I’ve seen online.

“Okay, what have you read about us?”

“A lot, and not much of it good,” I admit.

“We’re not bad people, Livvy. I promise you you’re safe here. At this point, you’re practically my sister, which makes you family. And no matter what you read about the Valentinos, we stick together. We protect our own.”

Yeah, well, I could have used that protection last night… But I don’t say that part out loud.





Chapter Twenty-One





I walked out of the house. I had to get out of there. I told Luca not to leave, to make sure she was okay, and then I just drove off. I ended up sitting in some hole-in-the-wall dive bar. I didn’t even grab my fucking wallet before I left. That hasn’t stopped me from racking up a tab here. The bartender hasn’t asked any questions. He just makes sure to refill my glass as soon as it’s empty.

I know I need to be stronger. I am fucking stronger than this. She deserves more than this. But I cannot erase the picture of her beaten and bruised body. It took every ounce of patience I had in that shower not to go ballistic. Not to demand information I know she’s not ready to give me. I need a description. That’s it. Just a description, so I can hunt down the fucking assholes who did this to her.

Picking up the glass, I down it in one gulp, slamming it back down on the bar top. I look at the few patrons around me. Any one of them could be the guy who attacked Livvy. Fuck, I need to get out of here. Standing, I fall straight on my ass. My head spins as the alcohol swirls through my bloodstream. It was supposed to numb me. It hasn’t.

I still feel it. All of it. All of her hurt, her despair, her fear. I fucking feel it at my core. In the center of my chest. Like a weight that makes it near impossible to breathe.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to pay my tab.”

The bartender nods at my slurred words. He must know who I am. Why else would he be letting me walk out without paying?

I stumble onto the sidewalk and start to make my way down the block. When I see two cops at the corner, I glare in their direction. I fucking hate cops.

“Hey, hold up,” one of them says to me.

“Why the fuck should I?” I spit back at them, trying to get my eyes focused enough to read the numbers on their badges.

“We’re going to need you to do a sobriety test,” the second cop says, a hand resting on his sidearm.

I smirk. I know he’s trying to be intimidating. He’s not. Not in the slightest. “I’m not driving. Why the fuck do I need a sobriety test?”

“Because I’m the fucking law and I said so,” the first fucker replies.

“You’re the law, huh? Why don’t you get on that little walkie-talkie and tell your captain who you two clowns are fucking with right now—see what he has to say about it?” I suggest.

“And who is that exactly?” The other smart-mouthed cop raises an incredulous brow at me.

Tilting my head, I squint my eyes at him. “Romeo Valentino. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

They both laugh. “Yeah, and I’m fucking Mother Theresa. Turn around, hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” I scoff, taking a step to the left and stumbling when he reaches for me.

“Drunk and disorderly. Trust me. We’re doing you a favor. You think you’ll last long out on these streets impersonating a Valentino?”

This has me chuckling for the first time tonight. “I’m not fucking impersonating shit, asshole. I am fucking Romeo Valentino.”





I wake with a crick in my neck and pounding in my temples. Opening my eyes, I’m greeted by sunlight and bars. Fucking jail bars.

How the fuck did I end up in here?

The last thing I remember was sitting my ass down at some dive bar.

“Wake up. Your hearing is set to start in thirty minutes,” a voice I know all too well says. Captain George.

“Hearing for what?” I ask.

“You were arrested for a drunk and disorderly. Don’t worry, the charges aren’t going to stick,” he says.

“No fucking shit.”





I’d rather spend another night in jail, then sit in the courtroom with Matteo and my father again. I’ve been given nothing but the silent treatment from Pops. Honestly, I’d prefer the yelling, to have him throw something at me. I climb into the back of the car, after Matteo, and rest my head against the seat. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Livvy. I fucking let her down. Again.

“How was jail?” Matteo asks.

Opening one eye, I give him my best scowl. “I’ve slept in nicer places.”

“You’re a fucking trust fund brat. Of course you’ve slept in nicer places. Care to tell me what made you drink yourself stupid?” He attempts to glare back. It has no effect on me today.

“Not particularly,” I tell him, closing my eyes again.

“Well, it’s either me or Pops. Or worse, Theo. So come on out with it. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what the fuck had you trying to drink your problems away.”