Chapter 11 #2
‘Everything okay?’ A voice cuts through the static in my head.
Bibiana. My sister. One year younger than me and the only female among a sea of testosterone, both here and within the Salvatore family. She has scars to prove for that cruel privilege.
She stands next to me, dark curls pinned back, tablet in hand. She’s in her full strategist mode – sharp eyes, sharper tongue, and zero patience for bullshit.
‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that seeing as you’re officially in charge now?’ She’s acting Team Boss seeing as Cesare has his hands full with impending fatherhood, being underboss and designing and selling supercars with a waiting list longer than the Monaco racetrack.
No one can accuse us of being underachievers, for fucking sure.
I nod at the twins. ‘Renzo’s nailing his lines at La Rascasse,’ I say. ‘They have another bet going as to who can get closest to the barricade at Turn 15?’
Bibi snorts without looking up. ‘What do you think? I’ve told them whoever crashes gets Orazio’s boot up the ass if I have to petition for a whole year for it.’
I smirk despite myself. ‘You’re scary.’
She finally glances up, arching a brow. ‘And you’re twitchy. Sure you’re cool?’
I grunt. Can’t argue. I am twitchy. I don’t twitch.
Except when a raven-haired virgin assassin with a perfect mouth and a smarter-than-you glint in her eye decides to play games with my bloodstream.
I drop a kiss on her temple, earning myself a get-the-fuck-off-me glare, then step away from the pit wall, thumbing open a secure app on my burner.
I wait till I reach the garage and find a rare pocket of privacy.
I tap the screen and the freaky-as-shit black owl does its thing, unfurling slick wings, soaring straight at the screen before disintegrating into a shower of green encryption code.
A year since the mysterious hacker reached out to Cesare out of the blue to help us with our mole issue, we’re no closer to discovering their identity.
I stare at the blinking cursor, not sure why I am reaching out now.
They haven’t answered any of my messages in weeks.
Trying one more time beats twitching, I guess.
Hey. Anything on El Topo? Possible move near the coast in Taormina?
The blinking cursor mocks me.
Then—
Playing with shadows when your target’s the sun? Careful, Enforcer. The fire comes tonight.
I frown, fingers tightening on the phone. Typical cryptic shit. But I know what he means. He’s not talking about Bonafacio. He’s talking about the assignment. The billionaire I’m meant to take out tonight. The one who traffics in flesh and secrets.
Intel. Now. Don’t be cute.
Shadow Watch
Meaning what, exactly?
The message burns behind my eyes, driving my irritation up another ten notches.
I work alone. No backup. No shadow team. Just me. Like always.
Except… tonight. I’m changing my routine, planning on bringing Sofiya with me. Sexy as fuck. Pure as the driven snow. And belladonna deadly.
On paper, the worst idea I could have. Have to give them props. The fucks at Aegis have a twisted sense of humour for giving me the green light knowing it could all go tits-up.
But it sure won’t be funny ha-ha if I end up with a blade in my spine.
I glance at my reflection in the side mirror of Renzo’s car. I look calm. Salvatore mafiosi. Unbothered. Zero twitch.
But there’s a small part of me – the one Sofiya’s been chipping away at with every bite of sass and every flash of vulnerability – that wonders if I should call it off tonight. Just this once. Quadruple-check my shit.
Cuff her to my bed and maybe play with her a little instead of slitting a monster’s throat.
The fuck’s wrong with me?
I’m about to type another response to Nightowl when my senses flare. A nanosecond before a familiar voice rolls over me like thunder.
‘Who the fuck are you sexting so hard you didn’t even notice me standing here?’
Cesare.
In the flesh.
Right here in an immaculate black suit, arms crossed, jaw tight. There’s a tension in his shoulders I don’t miss.
Neither does Bibi, who raises her brows from across the room before muttering something under her breath and quickly ducking away with her tablet.
‘Fratuzzu,’ I say, schooling my face. ‘What a surprise. Shouldn’t you be four thousand miles away, ass-deep in baby showers and gender-reveal bullshit?’
‘Maddelena wanted to come. Monaco is her second favourite race. Besides, I thought I’d come look you in the face. See what’s what.’
Slate-grey eyes inherited from the Salvatore male ancestors attempt to pierce my layers.
His tone isn’t light. Cesare doesn’t do ‘light’ these days. Not with a baby on the way and a host of trigger-happy fucking Mancinellis for in-laws.
I slide my phone into my pocket, fake nonchalance. ‘Look around, it’s busy as hell,’ I say. ‘Twins playing Russian roulette with the barriers. Renzo deciding if he wants to shoot a celebrity or ass-fuck them. Usual shit.’
His brow twitches. ‘Uh-huh. So I guess we’re going to talk about everything else besides the most important subject?’
I blink. ‘Which is?’
‘Don’t fuck with me, frate.’
‘You keeping tabs on me now?’
‘No,’ he snaps. ‘I’m keeping tabs on the war we’re not trying to start again, seeing as the timing is…’ He snaps his fingers. ‘Bad as fucking fuck. And you don’t seem to give a flying shit.’
That cuts deeper than it should.
Because I don’t have an answer. Not a good one.
Not one that doesn’t sound like: She’s sneaking under my skin, and I’m trying to figure out if I want her out or deeper in.
So I do what I always do.
I smirk. ‘Jealous that my life is way more exciting than yours these days?’
His jaw tightens, but the corner of his mouth betrays him. ‘It’s not. And fuck you.’
I shrug. ‘I’m busy tonight. Big job. The Chinese might reach out.
’ It’s not a lie. But it’s not the whole truth, of course.
I’ve never betrayed my oath to the clandestine team I serve.
Not even for the brother I love more than the blood in my veins.
There was a time when my silence almost became an issue. Thank fuck Cesare learned to accept it.
His expression shifts instantly. ‘Need anything?’
That’s Cesare for I love you, asshole.
I shake my head. ‘Not unless Maddie’s willing to let you out of the palace after sundown.’ I can joke about that because she won’t. And I’ll be long gone with another princess in tow tonight.
‘Not a fucking chance,’ he mutters.
We stand there for a beat – two brothers, full warriors, lately half strangers, bound by blood and bruised trust that hasn’t quite healed from the events of last year.
Then he exhales and claps a hand to my shoulder.
‘Whatever the fuck you’re doing, don’t die tonight. I’d hate to have to add the Triad…’ He slants a ferocious look at me as he adds, ‘…or anyone else to my to-slaughter list.’
I nod.
‘Ditto.’