“Traffic.” I nod respectfully to the old man before dropping to the empty space beside Roman. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Gio’s face breaks into that wide, false smile I’ve come to despise. “Good to see you again. Your uncle and I were just ensuring the peace.” His words—ensuring the peace—sound like a threat wrapped in diplomacy.
I flash Gio a tight smile. The hot cedar bench burns my thighs, but I welcome the discomfort. The sudden sting keeps me sharp.
“Reznik has always talked too much. Nothing new there.” Gio hunches forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “When a man starts going on about another man’s dead brother, well…” The implication hangs in the steamy air.
Beside me, Roman stiffens.
“We’re aware of Reznik’s accusations.” Steel edges Roman’s soft voice. “They’re being handled.”
Gio nods, then his gaze shifts from Roman to me. “Nice bracelet. Not what I pictured a guy like you wearing, but hey, to each his own.”
The leather band feels suddenly heavy on my wrist. I resist the urge to shield this little piece of Aurora from his prying eyes.
An emotion I can’t place flickers in Gio’s expression. Recognition? Interest? Whatever it is causes me to bristle. His stretched smile shows too many teeth. “Is this your wife’s work?”
The question lands like a grenade.
My blood ices over despite the heat. We’ve been careful. We kept the wedding private, family only, and no one within our inner circle would share personal details about my new wife. Yet here Gio Falcone sits, casually dropping Aurora’s art into conversation like it’s common knowledge.
“How the fuck do you know so much about my wife?” I keep my voice low and controlled, but I can’t hide the threat underlying the words.
Gio’s eyebrows rise in mock surprise. He holds up his hands, palms out, in a feigned picture of innocence. “Word travels. Especially when a Kozlov’s tying the knot. That’s big news.” His eyes never stray from mine, probing for weakness. “Congratulations again, by the way.”
Every instinct shrieks that he knows more than he’s saying. That Aurora isn’t safe. That his offhanded mention of her is a calculated act in whatever game he’s playing. My fingers itch to sever the Italian fuck’s tongue, but violence here, on neutral ground, would mean war.
Observing from his position near the hot rocks, Kolya reaches over to ladle water onto the heated stones. The gesture seems casual, routine, but I know him too well. Nothing he does is without purpose.
He executes a sharp, sloppy turn. Clumsy for a man who floats like a ghost and can slit a throat without spilling a drop of blood on his own skin. A ladleful of boiling water splashes Gio’s forearm.
Gio hisses and jumps back, water droplets flying from his reddening skin. “What the hell?” His carefully constructed charm evaporates, exposing the rage beneath.
“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Kolya pauses, face etched with exaggerated regret, “man.”
Roman’s silence regarding Gio’s injury sends a clear message.
We know what you’re doing. Back the fuck off.
Carmine shifts, his aged eyes missing nothing. “Accidents happen. Especially in places like this.” His gaze flicks to his son, then to me, then to Roman. “That’s why we maintain certain…boundaries. Yes?”
The Don’s words carry significant weight beyond their surface-level meaning. He’s reminding us all of the Banya’s sacred neutrality, yes, but also of the larger boundaries between our families. Territories. Business interests. Personal lives. Lines we don’t cross without expecting severe consequences.
Gio rubs his arm, the skin already an angry crimson. His eyes go flat and cold. “Of course. Boundaries are important. Speaking of which, how’s the art world treating your new bride?I hear she’s quite talented. Working with broken things, making them whole again. Poetic, really.”
My jaw clenches with so much pressure, I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack. How does he know so much about her art? The implications race through my mind. Surveillance, informants, a breach in our security. Is someone close to us feeding information to the Falcones?
Or worse, are they watching Aurora?
“Careful, Falcone.” I maintain an impartial expression. “Some boundaries, once crossed, can’t be uncrossed.”
“Gentlemen.” Roman’s reprimand pierces through the tension like a blade. “We’re here to discuss business, not personal matters.” He flashes Gio a warning look. “Unless there’s something specific about my nephew’s marriage that involves your family’s interests?”
Though Gio leans back to affect relaxation, the tendons in his neck bulge out like cords. “Not at all. Just making conversation.”
Before I can respond, Roman stands. The sudden movement draws all eyes to him. “I think we’ve covered enough ground for today.” His tone brooks no argument. “Don Carmine, we appreciate your family’s…concerns about Reznik. We’ll handle him. As for the other territorial matters, I’ll have Vanya draw up the paperwork.”
This meeting is over, cut short by Gio’s provocations. Carmine nods, his expression unreadable.
