We stare at each other for a long moment. Then Matteo nods. "Two weeks,fratello. After that, I will be forced to make the call."
Two weeks to destroy Caterina or lose Bianca.
I can work with that.
When I return to the table, Bianca is still laughing, the sound bright and real, and I want to bottle it. Keep it somewhere safe where Caterina can't touch it.
"Everything okay?" she asks when I sit beside her.
"Fine."
She doesn't believe me. I can tell by the way she studies my face, looking for cracks in the armor.
"You're a terrible liar," she says quietly.
I snort. "I'm an excellent liar. You're just getting too good at reading me."
Before she can respond, a man stumbles into our section. Mid-forties, expensive suit gone rumpled, reeking of whiskey and desperation. A gambler who bet too much and lost.
I recognize the type immediately.
Drunk and stupid.
My hackles rise.
"Well, well." His words slur together. "If it isn't the ruthless Dante Vitale and his pretty little?—"
"Walk away," I growl.
He ignores me, leaning too close to Bianca. "What's a nice girl like you doing with a thug like him? You know what he is, sweetheart? You know what he does?"
"I said walk away."
"Or what?" He grins, showing yellowed teeth. "You gonna hit me? In front of all these people? In front of your whore?—"
I'm moving before he finishes the sentence.
My fist connects with his jaw, and he goes down hard. But I don't stop. Can't stop. Because I'm seeing my mother's face. Herbruises. The empty bottles she hid in the garden. The way she tried to smile through the shame.
I hit him again. And again.
I see red.
Blood sprays across the carpet. Someone screams. Hands try to pull me back, but I shake them off.
"Dante!" Matteo's voice cuts through the red haze. "Enough!"
I freeze and I stand. When I look down at the man curled on the floor, choking on blood and broken teeth, it’s like I see him for the first time.
"Anyone disrespects her," I say to the silent crowd, "ends up like him."
Then I turn to Bianca.
She's staring at me with wide eyes. Not quite horror. Not quite fear. Something else I can't name.
I have no fucking idea what it is.
But it’s not fear. I take a step toward her and she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t look away, she takes a small step forward, sways toward me.
