Remy

16. Remy

REMY

“We have to get going.”I curse my idiotic need to console her. “It won’t work in our favor to keep Lorenzo waiting.”

“But I’m not ready. I’m barely even dressed, and Alexandra’s funeral is this morning. If I’m late?—”

“I think tardiness can be bumped down the list of concerns when a bullet through the brain is a possible alternative.”

It was meant as a joke. One I immediately regret.

Her eyes widen. Her tempting lips part.

Fuck.

“Ollie, listen.” I step into her, cupping her cheeks, thankful she doesn’t balk in revulsion. “I will not let anything happen to you. Do you hear me?”

She stares up at me, hazel eyes glassy, skin pale, breathing labored.

“Your father is a valued asset. Our arrangement is priceless.”

She winces.

“We just need to convince my brother and Lorenzo you’re on board.”

“How can I convince them when I’m struggling to convince myself?” She pulls away. “I’m not built for this.”

“None of us are.” I drop my hands to my sides. “Do you think I was born into this role?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.”

“This hasn’t always been my life. I had a heart once.”

She looks away, focusing on the blank television screen. “It’s all too much. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I?—”

“You thought on your feet last night. You strategized. You got those cops to leave.”

“No, I didn’t.” She shakes her head. “That was you and your guy on the payroll.”

“There’s no time to question yourself. You can do this.” She’s convinced she’s going to die. I’m not entirely sure she won’t. “You have to do this.” I lead the way toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She glances to the hall behind her, her damp hair tangled in clumps around her cheeks.

“Now, pyro.”

Her posture slumps. “I don’t like that nickname.”

“I’m not overly fond of Grim either, but if the shoe fits…” I stop before her hat rack and grab her thick brown coat.

She approaches, stride short, feet dragging. She stops before me, not protesting when I drape the heavy material over her shoulders.

Her eyes never leave mine, the pleading hazel depths stirring emotions in me I never thought I had.

Why the fuck do I care so much?

Why do I care at all?

I shouldn’t give a shit about taking her to Lorenzo. Shouldn’t mind that she’ll be spending more time in Salvatore’s presence. But both those things have my rage on a low simmer.

Denying them isn’t an option. My brother would only find her as soon as my back was turned. At least this way I can be there. Can do the talking.

I pull open the door, and the cold wind slaps my face as I stride for the Bentley still parked across the street. The crunch of her footsteps follow behind me. We both climb into the car although clearly, neither one of us wants to leave.

“My phone?” she asks while I start the ignition.

I pull it from my jacket pocket, having dumped the rest of her surrendered electronics on her dining table first thing this morning.

I should outline rules and regulations with the device. How she shouldn’t complicate matters by telling her father of this morning’s situation. How any calls for help will be intercepted. Instead, I hold tight to the cell as she grasps the other end, and level her with a warning look.

She remains silent, giving a solemn nod in understanding.

“We have to work together, Ollie. There’s no point making this more painful than it needs to be.”

“I know.”

She drags on her seatbelt as I pull from the curb.

I keep one eye on her as I drive through the busy morning traffic, her focus intent on her screen.

“What is it?” I mutter, yet again giving too many shits about what’s running through her head.

“Dad sent a heap of messages Saturday night. He must be worried sick.”

“He’s not.” I force my attention on the road. “He called me when he didn’t hear from you. I explained that it was best to give you a few days without the interference of Google swaying your perception of me and mine.”

“What am I going to find online?”

I shrug. “Unsubstantiated stories and speculation.”

“Are they though?” she whispers. “Speculation, I mean.”

“Sometimes.”

“Will you tell me why my father trusts you?”

“Our agreement couldn’t work without trust. It’s non-negotiable. And we’ve worked closely since the beginning. He showed me the ins and outs of your business. In return—apart from the money—I’ve helped where I can with his health issues. We may not have the same outlook on life, but we’ve learned to understand each other.”

She focuses out her passenger window, as if trying to distance herself from me, her fingers self-consciously raking through her hair.

“Stop fidgeting. You look fine.”

“I’m a wreck,” she murmurs to the frosted glass. “And FYI—fine is never a comforting descriptor.”

Does she want me to tell her she’s mesmerizing? That the state of her hair doesn’t mean shit when her gorgeous face has the ability to steal breath?

She continues finger-combing her damp strands, then starts fussing with her clothes. Her leg jostles, her jitters filling the car as I drive toward the city, her knee constantly bobbing, her hands a frenzy of agitated movement.

“You’re going to need to get those nerves under control.” I shoot her a glance.

She sighs. “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.”

Her knee continues to jolt. Up and down. Up and down. Faster and faster.

“I’m serious, Ollie. Lorenzo needs to know you have your shit together.”

“I’m trying, but it doesn’t help when I don’t know what he’s going to do to me.”

My hands tighten around the steering wheel. I wish I could answer her with an impending Hallmark moment but the truth is, I don’t know what to expect.

I’ve only had a relationship with my uncle for little over a year. Before that I barely knew he existed. I’m unsure how much influence I have.

What I do know is that he’s smart, calculating, and risk averse. He’s a powerful man with a hell of a lot to lose. He’s also highly principled with a soft heart for those he cares about.

Too bad Ollie doesn’t fall into that category.

It’s all on me to sway his hand.

“You don’t know, do you?” Her voice fills with sorrow. “You have no idea what I’m up against.”

“We,” I correct. “What we’re up against.”

I reach across the center console to slide a hand over her knee before I can think better of it. Before I can contemplate how fucking pathetic it is for the man who placed her in this situation to offer her comfort.

Her breathing hitches. The jolting stops. She turns rigid.

What the fuck are you doing?

I withdraw from the lenience—the stupidity—and reclaim the steering wheel. “Just pretend to be okay with the situation. He needs to trust you.”

“Even though you don’t?”

I’m not sure that’s the case anymore. But exposing the truth is yet another mistake. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Even though I don’t.”

I pull into the underground parking lot of my uncle’s apartment building and take the reserved space between Salvatore’s matte black Maserati GranTurismo and Lorenzo’s silver Rolls-Royce Wraith.

I cut the ignition and turn to her. “My uncle values respect and self-control. Take your time before answering his questions. Don’t get emotional. Show him you’re not the type to buckle under pressure.”

She swallows. Nods.

“You’ll be okay.” Fingers crossed. If history dictates, all it will take is one threat from Lorenzo and she’ll bite back with a retort likely to get her throat slashed. Or worse, she’ll attempt to knock him out with a blunt object and try to stuff him in the kitchen oven. “Let me do the talking.”

She stares at me, those slaying eyes seeming to read me. “Are you really helping me? Or is this a trap?”

I’m definitely doing the former. But only time will tell if I’m unwittingly leading her into the latter.

“I’m doing everything I possibly can to get things back to the way they were.” I lower my attention to the cell in her lap. “Have you messaged your dad yet?”

“Yes.” She shucks the heavy coat, her expression somber. “I lied and told him everything is under control. If I’m being led to slaughter I don’t want him to feel responsible.”

“Good decision.” I climb from the car, eat up the short path to the penthouse elevator, and wait for her to join me. “Whatever you feel in there, keep it locked tight. Whether it’s fear or anger, push it to the back of your mind. You can take it out on me later.”

“You might regret that when I’m wielding a baseball bat and swinging it toward that aesthetically faultless face of yours.”

I slap my hand against the call button, holding in a grin. “I’ve talked you down from worse.”

“Placing me in volatile situations isn’t something to brag about.”

I watch her in the reflection of the elevator doors as they open. Ignore the need to touch her again. “Be strong, Ollie. The weak don’t survive here.”

Her throat works over a heavy swallow, but she squares her shoulders and drags in a deep breath to follow me inside.

I enter the PIN code on the security panel, then press the lone button for the penthouse.

The ascent is quiet, the enclosed space suffocated with her turmoil.

“As soon as those doors open, we’ll have eyes on us.” I lean against the back wall, relieved when she stands taller, her chin high, but those delicate hands continue to fidget. “Your life is nothing more than a business decision for Lorenzo. Keep it simple. Don’t create more complications.”

She peers back at me with hopelessness. “My life is nothing more than a business decision?”

“Nobody’s life is.”

Her brow furrows. “Even yours?”

I shrug.

Did he take me in after my parents tried to have me killed? Yes.

Did he give me a home, money, a future? All of the above.

But will those luxuries disappear if I rub him the wrong way? Chances are.

If my own father can attempt to take my life, I don’t hold much hope that a once-estranged uncle won’t one day try to do the same.

“Great.” Ollie pivots to the doors, turning away from me. “If you’re not safe, what hope do I have?”

“You’ve got a retort and the means to effortlessly dispose of evidence. Lean into that.”

She drags in a deep breath and lets it out in a rush.

The elevator opens and, as expected, one of Lorenzo’s armed guards eyeballs us from his standing post beside the elegant white front doors of the penthouse.

He doesn’t greet me. Doesn’t pretend like he has permission to even utter my name. He rushes to clear our path, silently opening both doors and moving out of the way.

I stride inside the ostentatious bachelor pad with its excessive high ceiling, seemingly untouched furniture, and sparkling marble floor.

The far-off murmur of voices travels from the right of the building. I lead Ollie in that direction. Past the kitchen. Down the hall. Toward the open entry of Lorenzo’s office where another guard stands in wait.

He doesn’t make eye contact. Doesn’t flinch from his soldier-like stance.

I shoot Ollie one last reassuring look, then continue inside.

“Remy.” My uncle pushes to his feet from behind his meticulously crafted wooden desk, his Italian accent thick, his smile warm and almost believable. “Thank you for coming.”

My brother stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me as he peers over the Baltimore skyline.

I keep my posture neutral, my expression edging toward boredom. “I’m a busy man. I could’ve done without the early morning summons.”

Salvatore turns to me with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m sure you could’ve, figlio. But I wanted to meet your friend.” Lorenzo takes in Ollie with a deceptively kind gaze. “Introductions are in order.”

The hair on my nape tingles. I shut that down. Ignore it. “This is Olivia.” I slide a palm around her back and guide her forward. “Carlo Pelosi’s daughter, and the full-time mortician at her family’s funeral home.”

“Olivia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He makes his way around the desk, limping slightly, before stopping in front of her. “I met your father quite some years ago. He’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is.” She offers her hand to shake, her trembling fingers her only tell. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you.” Lorenzo’s smile deepens as he clasps her palm, shaking for longer than necessary. The first sign of subtle intimidation.

My hackles rise, my agitation increasing when Salvatore turns and prowls forward, staring down his nose at her.

“Please take a seat.” Lorenzo releases her hand and indicates one of the two wingback armchairs in front of his desk.

Ollie glances at the chairs positioned within lunging distance of my brother, then to me, as if sensing the warranted threat of his close proximity.

“It’s okay.” I give a subtle jerk of my chin. “Salvo won’t bite.” I scowl at him in warning. “Will you?”

He raises a brow. “The jury’s still out.”

I glower, my temper locked and loaded.

He might hold more power than me in this organization, but when it comes to the sibling hierarchy I have no problem getting my point across with violence. Not even when the last fight I had with my brothers resulted in two of us being stabbed.

“In that case,” I snarl through clenched teeth, “the jury might want to hurry up and learn some manners before the executioner loses his temper.”

Salvatore throws his head back with an exaggerated laugh.

I want to fucking kill him.

“Ignore them.” Lorenzo leans against his desk. “It always surprises me how grown men can revert to childish toddlers the moment a beautiful woman enters a room. Please—” he indicates toward the seats again. “—sit.”

Ollie does as requested, scooting around the far side of the chair farthest from my brother before settling into the seat with her hands in her lap.

“I heard you had an eventful weekend.” Lorenzo doesn’t take his scrutinous eyes off her.

“Who told you that?” I step closer, standing like a sentry beside her chair.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Salvatore smirks.

“Yeah, I would, asshole. If my men are going behind my back to report to you on things that don’t require your involvement, I deserve to be informed.”

“It wasn’t your men.” Lorenzo’s focus turns to me, oddly reassuring. “I received a phone call from a police officer last night who wanted to make sure there was nothing he could do to help assist with the situation between my nephew and his girlfriend.” His attention turns inquisitive. “Which was quite a surprise when I didn’t know you were dating.”

“It was even more surprising since the request came just a day after you called claiming you were out trolling to get laid,” Salvatore adds.

“We’re not dating. It was?—”

Lorenzo raises a silencing finger. “Olivia is more than capable of informing me of how all this came to pass.”

He’s testing her. Sizing her up. Or at least determining the threat she poses.

But, unlike with her father, she can’t lie to Lorenzo. Can’t even manipulate the truth. Any hint of deceit will ensure this ends badly.

“Please, mia cara,” he coaxes. “Tell me how you and my nephew came to be familiar.”

She peers up at me, questioning.

Shit.

I try to convey my thoughts through a look of calm reassurance. “It’s okay. You can?—”

“Remy, enough,” my uncle barks. “Allow my guest to speak.”

Ollie’s eyes widen on me, her fear showing. Then, in a blink, she reins it in and focuses on the man likely to order her death. “It’s a long story…”

His smile returns. “Not to worry. I may be old, but I still have time.”

She gives another swallow. Another glance in my direction for approval.

All I can do is incline my head.

She keeps her gaze on me as she speaks. “It started early Saturday morning. I was at work, having stayed late to try to get on top of my duties. I fell asleep in the break room.” Those troubled eyes lose focus, lost in memory. “I woke to the sound of Remy and his men entering the building.”

“That must have been quite the surprise,” Salvatore drawls.

She blinks out of her daze and addresses Lorenzo. “I was scared, to say the least.”

“Understandable.” He winces with empathy.

I step forward. “I made sure?—”

My uncle’s glowering eyes snap to mine, one hard look of disapproval enough to force my mouth shut again. “If it’s difficult for you to refrain from interrupting, it might be best if you wait in the living room.”

My pulse becomes thunderous. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His attention narrows. He’s trying to figure out what she means to me.

I’d like to fucking understand that myself.

“Please continue, Olivia.” He turns a softened parental gaze back to her. “He won’t interfere again.”

“I walked in on two men carrying the limp body of a middle-aged male.” She clears her throat. “At the time, I wasn’t aware he was dead, but it was obvious there was something illegal going on.”

Lorenzo grasps the desk behind him on either side of his hips. Knuckles white. Annoyance evident. “And?”

“And after a temperamental—or more accurately, confrontational—conversation, I learned of the agreement that was made with my father.”

The room falls quiet.

The prickle of foreboding grows.

I want to step in. Take over. Fix this.

“Did you also learn that the agreement had strict stipulations where your father was never to bear witness to our work while on your premises—for reasons of incrimination as well as safety?” Lorenzo asks.

“Yes.” She sits taller in the face of danger. “I’m aware.”

“And yet you seem to be taking this turn of events quite well.” My uncle raises a brow. “Why is that?”

“I’ve had my moments. But I trust my father. Like you said, he’s a good man. He wouldn’t have walked into this without careful consideration. My faith is in his judgment.”

For some fucked up reason her response fills me with pride. She’s walking this tightrope with cautious precision. Perfectly drip-feeding the truth.

“And where was your father during this?” Salvatore asks. “Because, to me, this situation seems like a fucking red flag of mismanagement. Or maybe even a setup.”

“He was in hospital.” She takes my brother’s stare head-on.

“Hospital?” Lorenzo directs at me.

“Yes. He had a fall after chemo treatment.”

“So Olivia is now aware of his health situation?”

“I am,” she answers.

“She knows he has cancer,” I affirm. “I was there when he told her the news.”

Lorenzo nods slowly, mulling over my response. “It must have been quite the night of revelations for you, mia cara.” He pushes to stand, giving Ollie a slight squeeze to the shoulder before circling the desk and taking his office chair. “Is Carlo okay?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Her voice waivers. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday afternoon.”

“Because?” Salvatore prods.

“I gave Remy my phone so he knew I wouldn’t call the cops.”

Slow your roll, Ollie. Be fucking careful.

“That was necessary?” Lorenzo pins me with narrowed eyes.

“It was a precaution.” I don’t look away. Don’t hint to my building unease.

“But the police showed anyway.” Salvatore throws his hands skyward in theatrical mockery.

“Because of a nosy neighbor,” I grate. “We shut it down without issue.”

Salvatore scoffs and shares a glance with Lorenzo.

A knowing, ominous glance.

Not good. Not fucking good.

“What?” I sneer. “Spit it out.”

Lorenzo raises an unimpressed brow. “Obviously this situation is concerning. She was never meant to find out.”

“I won’t talk,” Olivia blurts. “I can’t. Not only because I wouldn’t risk my father’s freedom, but because I’ve been implicated myself.”

Salvatore cocks his head. “How?”

I clear my throat, hoping to get her to tap the brakes on the truth serum.

“I helped dispose of that man’s body,” she admits. “I was there. I flipped the switch on the retort.”

“The plot thickens.” Lorenzo leans back in his chair, entwining his fingers over his stomach. “I assume it was a forced action, though. Not something that would hold much weight in court.”

“Maybe not,” she continues. “But since then, I would’ve been seen driving your nephew’s car to the hospital on my own. He’s spent the weekend in my house. I even convinced my neighbor we’re in a relationship. Those actions wouldn’t be so easy to talk my way out of.”

Fuck, Ollie.

I fight the need to clasp a hand over her mouth. To cut her off. To shut her the hell up.

“The mobster and the mortician having known ties.” Lorenzo rocks gently in his chair, his agitation subtle. “What a juicy story for the tabloids.”

Ollie snaps her panicked gaze to me.

Yes, pyro, you glitched.

I ignore her, refusing to meet those pleading hazel eyes. To weaken before the men looking for any excuse to be her executioner.

“The neighbor is no threat. She’s older than time.” I shrug off the skin-crawling apprehension. “And Olivia wouldn’t have been noticed in my car.”

“There’s a difference between being noticed and having evidence readily available to find once the bloodhounds catch wind of this.” Salvatore turns and walks for the window, disengaging from the conversation, his mind already made up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I clench my molars. “I have this under control.”

“Forgive me, figlio, but I lack your confidence.” Lorenzo gives a somber smile. “Given the circumstances, I feel it necessary to spend a little more time with Olivia. Just the two of us.”

“No,” I demand. “That’s not happening.”

Salvatore doesn’t turn back from the window.

They’ve both determined she’s too much of a liability.

“Hear me on this, Lorenzo.” I grate through gnashed teeth. “I said, no.”

I’m punching above my weight. Pushing far beyond my boundaries. And still, I don’t know why. Don’t understand how this woman and her father became important.

“More consideration needs to be made.” My uncle sits straight in his chair, all pretense of relaxation gone. “I’ll chat further with Olivia and?—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Cappelletti, I’m just as capable of reading between the lines as Remy,” Ollie says with softened conviction. “I know my life is on the line. But I assure you, I’m not a liability. I may not have proven my willingness to keep my mouth shut yet, but I can promise there’s nobody on this earth I love more than my father. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize his freedom. I wouldn’t have been able to do that even before I learned of the cancer, let alone now when I know he’s suffering.”

“It’s too big a risk,” Salvatore speaks to the Baltimore skyline, as if the it in question isn’t Ollie keeping her life.

“I’m level-headed.” She adds steal to her tone. “Death, murder, and the results of violence aren’t new to me.”

“That might be the case, crypt keeper, but I’m sure crime and danger are.” Salvatore glances over his shoulder to Lorenzo. “We’d be placing unnecessary trust in someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“She brings her father,” I growl.

“He’s already at the table, dickwad.”

I chuckle, teeth gritted, fists clenched. I’m going to fucking kill him.

“He wasn’t this weekend,” Ollie argues. “All this came to pass because he was in hospital. Who knows if something similar will happen in the future? And if it’ll be a staff member that learns incriminating information next time? But it doesn’t have to be that way. I can be on the inside. I can help cover things up.”

I glance from my brother to Lorenzo, waiting for one of them to be persuaded by her argument.

“I can’t afford to lose access to that retort.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Not when we’re in the thick of it with the cartel. We need her. Do you think her father will work with us if we kill his daughter?”

I’m well aware I’ve just posed a question she threw at me only days earlier. A question that could easily be ignored if she were to simply disappear. But here I am, grasping at all the straws.

“Carlo has been fucking good to me. If you destroy that, I’m out,” I vow. “I’ll move to Washington with Matthew. You can find someone else to do your dirty work.”

Salvatore rolls his eyes. “You don’t have much leverage when Bishop is only a phone call away.”

Not only is my brother a hothead, but he’s a fucking moron. “Bishop would prefer a prostate exam from our mother than to receive orders from you.”

“You feel that strongly, figlio?” Lorenzo asks me.

“Yes. I promised Carlo his interests would be kept safe under our agreement. I won’t be like my father and betray him.”

Salvatore turns back to the window, his chin raised.

If anything can sway him it’s the thought of holding any similarity to the man who spawned us.

“And you.” Lorenzo focuses on Ollie. “Do you understand the ramifications if anything goes wrong due to your involvement?”

She nods. “I think that’s been made abundantly clear.”

“No, child, it hasn’t.” He gives a sad smile. “The dissolution of this arrangement via problematic means would not simply end with the swift conclusion you may expect. It would be lengthy and exceptionally bothersome for both you and your father.”

“She gets it,” I growl.

“You would vow to be loyal to us?” he asks her.

A cold chill skitters down my spine as she nods.

“Your oath requires more than a simple head gesture, mia cara.”

“Yes,” she promises. “I vow it.”

His sad smile increases. “Unfortunately, it requires more than a verbal response, too.”

“That isn’t necessary.” I inch closer.

Lorenzo opens his desk drawer, ignoring me as he scrounges around the contents until he pulls out a card similar to one found in a poker set.

Goddamnit. He pulled this stunt with me and Salvatore a year ago. I still bear the marks to prove it.

“Women aren’t indoctrinated.” I lower my hands to my sides.

“No, they are not.” He pushes to his feet. “Instead, any woman outside the family who becomes a liability is silenced. Which would you prefer?”

I gnash my teeth. Glare my fury.

He remains paused behind his desk, unfazed by my animosity, waiting for a response.

“The ritual is pointless.” I clench my fists.

“It’s symbolic.” He limps toward Ollie and holds out the saint card for her to take. “Although my time spent in prayer has dwindled over the years, my faith remains. I picked Saint Catherine of Siena for you, Olivia. She was a very determined, headstrong woman, much like I imagine you must be.”

Ollie stares up at him, hands trembling.

I don’t want this for her.

Not the fucking ceremony.

Not the fucking life.

“Salvatore.” Lorenzo looks to my brother. “Do you have your switchblade?”

My brother turns from the window and stalks over as he digs in his pocket.

“I’ll do it.” I hold out a hand for his weapon.

“No need. I’ve got this.” He attempts to step around me.

I block his path. “I’ll do it.”

He stares. Stares so long and hard I’m sure he knows that blade of his could soon be embedded in his abdomen if I don’t get my way.

“Fine.” He slaps the weapon into my palm. “It’s your mess.”

My mess. My mistake. My punishment.

I turn to Ollie, my gut heavy as I take in her barely masked fear. “Come here.” I want to hold out a hand, help her to her feet. Instead, I keep my free arm at my side, my expression hard.

She licks her dried lips and slowly rises to stand before me.

I grab her wrist and take the saint card from her grip.

The slight tremor wracking through her fucking kills me, her trepidation like a lead weight in my gut.

“It’s only the smallest cut,” I vow.

She blinks up at me. Trusting. Unquestioning.

I hold her gaze as I pierce the blade into the pad of her pointer finger, her wince a knife through my chest. I squeeze her wrist tighter, forcing strength.

She smashes her lips tight. Breathes deep through her nose.

Such a phenomenal fucking woman.

Blood wells as I dump Salvatore’s weapon on the desk, then guide her pierced finger to hover over the face of Saint Catherine, allowing the blood to drip to the card.

“As your blood mingles with the saint’s grace,” Lorenzo states, “so shall you bind your loyalty to our family.” He pulls a cigarette lighter from his pocket.

“No,” I snarl.

“It will be quick, figlio. Give her the card.”

I can’t fucking do it.

“Figlio,” Lorenzo warns.

“It’s okay.” Ollie takes the card, holding it between her pierced pointer and thumb.

Her drops of blood slide down Saint Catherine’s angelic face as Lorenzo leans in, igniting the lighter with a grated flick, then holds the flame to the bottom corner of the card, a mere inch from her fingertips, and waits too many fucking seconds for the blaze to take hold.

“Repeat after me.” Lorenzo’s accent lingers. “I swear allegiance to this family, with loyalty thicker than blood.”

“I swear allegiance to this family.” Her voice shakes as the flame builds, burning closer to her skin, the radiant heat no doubt scalding. “With loyalty thicker than blood.”

“I am bound by silence and honor,” Lorenzo continues.

She sucks in a breath. “I am bound by silence and honor.”

“Until death claims me.”

“Until death claims me,” she whimpers.

With the last word of the oath I snatch the card, the flimsy board melting into my fingertips. I throw it to the large crystal ashtray on Lorenzo’s desk, the flames flickering with the momentum.

“You’re whipped and it shows,” Salvatore mutters under his breath for only me to hear.

“Grande.” Lorenzo beams with false praise. “You are now part of the family, mia cara. You are one of us.”

I breathe through the resentment as Ollie stares at the burns on her skin, no doubt a myriad of troubled thoughts hidden behind solemn eyes.

“Are we done?” I shove my hands in my pockets, fists clenched, knuckles aching.

“Almost. I have one more question.” Lorenzo raises an aged finger, pointing it back and forth between us. “Is there something romantic going on here that I need to know about?”

“No.” Ollie scrunches her nose. “Not at all.”

Salvatore snorts, enjoying her exaggerated display of distaste.

“Figlio?” Lorenzo narrows his gaze on me. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Wanting to fuck her isn’t romantic, right?

“You have not slept together?”

I don’t blink. Don’t even twitch. “No.”

He leans against his desk, nodding. “Good.” He returns his attention to Ollie. “I like you, Olivia.”

I’m not stupid enough to be relieved by his statement, and being the incredibly smart woman Ollie is, she doesn’t relax either.

“I’d hate for that to change,” he adds.

A whisper of a chuckle escapes her lips. “Believe me. I don’t want it to change either. I prefer being on the living side of my mortuary gurney if I can help it.”

Lorenzo grins. An earnest, charm-fueled expression that quickly fades. “With that being said, I would feel more at ease if we had someone to keep a close eye on you for the time being. Someone that preferably isn’t my nephew.”

“It’s already been taken care of.” I jerk my head toward the hall, encouraging Ollie to get moving.

“How so?” Salvatore asks.

“I’ve arranged for a close contact I trust to gain employment at the funeral home. He met with Carlo yesterday. My expectation is that he’ll be introduced to staff sometime this morning.”

Olivia stiffens.

Lorenzo nods his approval. “And outside of work?”

“Spyware has been installed on her devices and men have been scheduled to keep watch.”

Surprised hazel eyes turn my way, the heavy sense of betrayal eating up my periphery.

“Perfect.” Lorenzo clasps his hands in appreciation. “Then please consider your time with Olivia now officially over. I want you to drive her wherever she needs to be, then leave her in peace. There’s to be no further contact between you two unless an issue arises. Understood?”