17. Adriano
Skiing should demand my full attention. Skiing with a four, almost five-year-old as she continues to remind me, should absolutely have my full attention.
The slope ahead is clean, fast, but not so fast that Letty will hurtle uncontrollably down the run.
Just the kind that needs focus and punishes distraction, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t give anything else the space to interfere with that. Especially with my daughter involved.
Today, I’m not entirely present.
Not because of work or anything like that. Because I keep thinking about her. The beautifully stubborn woman who hates for anyone to see her vulnerable side but allowed me a glimpse.
When I saw her last night before she went to bed, she was doing a lot better.
Not fully there yet. She’s still carrying that faint edge of fatigue she tries to hide like it’s something she can control if she ignores it long enough, but a lot better.
She said she was fine.
I didn’t argue because I’m learning that nothing puts her walls up faster than trying to coddle her or tell her what to do.
That doesn’t mean I believed her or that I didn’t check on her last night before I went to bed. She was sleeping soundly, bundled under a mountain of covers. She looked relaxed; the fetal position of pain she’d been curled up in for days was gone.
“Daddy, watch this!”
Letty’s voice cuts through the cold air, bright and insistent, pulling my attention back just in time to see her push off, slightly too fast for her skill level but entirely confident in her ability to manage it anyway.
Which she doesn’t.
Not cleanly.
She wobbles halfway down, overcorrects, and ends up sitting in the snow with a huff of frustration, which makes me smile. I love her determination. This child will either rule the world one day or become a criminal mastermind, and I’m here for every second of it.
I’m beside her before she has time to decide whether to cry about it or rage at the world.
“You’re fine,” I say, steadying her as she pushes herself upright again.
“I meant to do that,” she insists.
“Of course you did.”
Nico snorts somewhere behind me. “She gets that from you.”
“She gets it from all of us,” I reply, brushing the snow from her sleeve before straightening.
She takes off again before I can say anything further.
I watch her go, making sure she corrects her stance this time, then shift my attention back up the slope, where Matteo is getting ready to head down to us.
My phone buzzes and I frown, wanting to ignore it.
I don’t.
Not when Isabella’s name flashes across the screen. Why is she calling me and not her husband, who is two feet from me. I glance at Nico, who lifts a brow in question.
Something tightens instinctively in my chest before I even answer. “Isabella.”
There’s no preamble.
“You need to come down,” she says, her voice low, controlled in a way that tells me more than if she’d sounded panicked. “Now.”
Everything in me stills. “What happened?”
“It’s Casey,” she says, quieter now. “Jasper’s here.”
Something violent settles under my skin before the words have fully registered.
Not surprise.
Not even anger in the way most people understand it.
Just pure, unadulterated rage, followed by a single, immediate thought—
He has no right to be anywhere near her.
My grip tightens around the phone, my focus narrowing fast, everything else dropping away as distance and timing become the only things that matter. Nico is standing at my shoulder, worry falling off him in waves as he picks up on my emotions.
He showed up.
He stood in the same space as her and thought that was acceptable.
That ends now.
“Is she alone?” I ask, already moving.
“I’m with her,” Isabella replies immediately. “But he’s watching her, Adriano. His side piece just confronted Casey.”
He’s a dead man.
My jaw tightens as I realize I mean that literally, not figuratively. We may have given up our mob life, but some things are in us from birth.
“Stay with her,” I say, already moving. “Don’t let him near her again.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
I can hear the vehemence in my sister-in-law’s voice and have never been more grateful for the strong, badass woman my brother married. “I’m on my way.”
I end the call before anything else can be said.
“What is it?” Nico says, already stepping closer.
“Jasper is at the lodge.”
That’s all it takes. His expression shifts instantly, the easy amusement gone, replaced by something sharper, colder. “With Casey and Bella?” he asks, his voice turning deadly at the thought of a man capable of lying as he did to Casey anywhere near his wife.
“Yes.”
That’s enough for him too.
He turns, already scanning for Letty. “Matteo—”
“I’ve got her,” Matteo calls back, further down the slope, his attention snapping toward us the second he hears the tone.
“Stay with her,” Nico says, not wasting time. “We’ll be back.”
Matteo nods once.
No questions.
No hesitation.
We move like a well-oiled machine. Everyone moves to do what’s needed to keep one of our own safe.
The descent is faster than it should be.
Not reckless, controlled, but barely.
But there’s no margin for distraction now, no space for anything except the path down and the time it’s taking to get there. To get to her.
It’s too long. Every second I don’t have eyes on her is too long. I never should have left her. I had a bad feeling about that asshole, but I never expected he’d turn up here. That takes balls or stupidity or both.
Every second stretches further than it should.
He’s there.
She’s there.
And I’m not.
That thought sits badly.
By the time we reach the base, I’m already unclipping my skis and pulling my gloves off. Without breaking stride, Nico and I move toward the lodge.
“Security?” I ask.
“Already on their way,” he replies.
They should have been ahead of this, and we’ll be having words about this after I’ve strangled the life out of Casey’s scumbag ex.
Right now—
I push through the doors, the murderous expression on my face causing people to part like the Red Sea.
The heat hits first.
Then the noise, but I ignore it all, my gaze swinging around the room in search of Casey.
Then—
I see her and my thundering heart calms a fraction.
She’s exactly where Isabella said she’d be, seated near the windows, her posture controlled, composed in a way that most people would read as calm. To everyone else, Casey handled that confrontation with calm confidence. Her facade hiding everything she’s feeling, and they all fall for it.
I don’t. I see the tension in her shoulders, her head tipped forward. The way her skin is devoid of color. The way her hand is wrapped too tightly around the mug in front of her.
The fact she hasn’t moved a muscle
And across the room—
Jasper Cole.
Standing like he belongs there.
Like he has any right to be within the same space as her after what he’s already done.
Something cold settles under my skin.
He may think he can bully and intimidate her, but he has no idea the hornets’ nest he just kicked. He messed with someone important to me, and nobody messes with the Mancini family and lives to tell the tale.
I don’t rush.
I don’t need to. My control is my biggest weapon here. He might expect loud violence he can use to his advantage, but he won’t get it.
I cross the room at a steady pace, every step deliberate, my attention fixed exactly where it needs to be.
I feel Nico at my shoulder and know he’ll have my back no matter what.
He might not know what Casey means to me, and if I’m honest with myself, I don’t entirely know myself, but he knows enough.
Jasper sees me.
His posture shifts slightly, not quite retreating, but aware now in a way he wasn’t before. He lifts his chin, his chest puffing out a little with bravado.
Good.
A little false confidence will make the humiliation land harder.
I don’t look at him again.
Not yet.
I stop beside her first.
My hand finds the back of her chair as I crouch beside her, then shifts, settling briefly at the small of her back as I move in closer, grounding the contact just enough to let her feel that I’m here.
“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low.
She nods. “I’m fine,” she says, though there’s something in it that tells me she’s been repeating that line for longer than she should have had to.
I glance at Isabella, who doesn’t seem to have noticed.
She’s not fine.
Why can nobody else see it?
“Stay here. I’m going to deal with this.”
I go to move and Casey grabs my arm, the contact sending a zing of electricity through me. “Leave it, Adi.”
God, there she goes again, stealing parts of my heart with the way she says my name in that soft voice of hers. The nerves hidden beneath the steel she tries to convey.
“No. I won’t have him harassing you like this. I’m just going to talk to him.”
Casey gives me a small, huffed laugh. “Don’t you mean threaten?”
I offer her a deep grin. “Tomato, tomhato.”
“Just don’t punch him.”
My gut clenches at the way she protects him, and I hate the jealous feeling in my gut.
My expression closes and I go to turn away but she stops me with her hand on my face.
Her soft palm against my rough stubble. It’s the first time she’s ever touched me with this gentle intimacy, and I find myself leaning into it.
“I’m not worried about you hurting him, Adi. I just don’t want you to get into any trouble because of it.”
Everything in me softens at those words. She was worried about me. I can’t remember when a woman or person who wasn’t family worried about me, and it means more than she knows.
Placing my hand over hers on my cheek, I give her a soft look. “Don’t worry about me, Tesoro. I can handle myself without throwing hands.”
Her nod is slight, but it’s enough for me to know she trusts me to handle this.
Only then do I turn.
Jasper is still there, his girlfriend with their child in her arms. He motions to her to sit and she walks off a ways, still casting hate-filled glances at Casey.
Jasper is still watching, though he looks angry now, his face red.
I take a step toward him.
Not fast or aggressive. To anyone else around us, it’s just two men talking.
“You stay away from Casey. You don’t approach her, you don’t contact her, you don’t think her name,” I say quietly.
My calm lands harder than raising my voice ever would.
His jaw tightens. “I’m not here for you.”
“No,” I reply. “You’re here because you think you still have a place in her life.”
“That’s between me and—”
“It isn’t,” I cut in, my tone even. “Not anymore. As far as Casey is concerned, you don’t exist. If you contact her again or come near her, I’ll ruin you. And believe me when I say it won’t be pretty.”
Something shifts in his expression at that.
Recognition.
Not of what I’ve said.
Of what I’m implying.
“You need to leave right now.”
“And if I don’t?”
There it is.
The question people ask when they think they have leverage.
They don’t.
I hold his gaze for a second longer, letting the silence stretch just enough to make the answer clear before I say it.
“Then I remove you. I never want to see you again and believe me, I will know. I have eyes everywhere. You know who I am and what my family is, so don’t think this is an empty threat,” I continue, calm, controlled, leaving no room for interpretation.
No threat.
No emphasis.
Just fact.
Behind me, I’m aware of movement—Nico stepping into place, the shift of the room as people start to realize something is happening, even if they don’t know what.
It doesn’t matter.
The only thing that matters is that he leaves.
Now.
Jasper hesitates.
It’s brief.
But it’s there.
He looks past me.
Toward her.
Mistake.
My expression doesn’t change.
But something in the air does.
“You don’t look at her again,” I say, quieter this time. “You don’t speak to her. And you don’t come near her again.”
He exhales sharply, something like frustration cutting through his composure before he steps back. This man isn’t used to conceding. He’s used to getting his own way. How he ever had a woman like Casey show him even a moment of interest is beyond me.
“You have this wrong. She’s stalking me. Casey followed us here.”
I smirk. “You’re delusional. Now fuck off, before I lose my temper and beat you to death in front of your child.” I wouldn’t but he doesn’t need to know that.
I don’t watch him go.
He’s no longer the priority.
I turn back to her instead, my attention shifting immediately, the edge of everything else dropping away just enough to focus on what matters.
“She shouldn’t have had to deal with that,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
Nico grasps my shoulder. “She won’t have to again.”
“No, she won’t.”
And this time—it’s not a statement.
It’s a promise.