"I didn’t know we’d started," I reply evenly.
Her smile deepens, the kind that says she’s exactly where she wants to be. "Your company intrigues me, Raffael. Omertà Infernale. You built it from nothing."
"It’s not for sale," I cut in.
Her brows lift, as if the idea of me assuming she’d want tobuyit is amusing. "No," she says, almost purring, "but for hire, I suppose."
I keep my expression unreadable. We are for hire, and I’ve never been choosy aboutclientsbefore, but there is something about this woman that not only sets me on edge but warns me to stay the hell away from her. "Why would you need to hire me?"
She shrugs, "Sometimes I need to keep a low profile, an untraceable… hit. Trust me when I say, you and your company are extremely valuable. And I can help you. We can help each other."
Even if she weren't who she is, I wouldn't trust her. Nobody in La Famiglia offersto helpwithout a shitload of strings attached. Especially not her.
"Help me?" I echo, letting the skepticism bleed into my tone.
Her smile doesn’t waver. "In my world, information is currency, caro. And I am very, very rich."
"And what do you want in return?"
Her eyes glitter like she’s been waiting for me to ask. "Nothing… for now. But when the day comes, I may require something done quietly. Discreetly. A problem removed without leaving fingerprints." She leans back, crossing her legs with languid precision. "And I have a feeling you’re very good at… disappearing problems."
I study her, weighing every word. "And if I say no?"
She shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but her gaze sharpens just enough to tell me it matters a lot. "Then you say no. But one day, Raffael, you might find yourself in a situation where youdoneed me. And I never forget the ones who turned me down."
I lean back, mirroring her posture. "I’ll take my chances."
Her laugh is low and warm on the surface, but there’s an edge underneath it—steel hidden in velvet. "You will. That’s what makes you so interesting. But trust me…" she lifts her glass, the ice clinking softly, "…we will speak again. And when we do, it will not be as strangers."
"But if this… relationship of ours is going to work," she says, swirling the dark amber in her glass, "I need to know why you attacked Silvestre."
She has no idea what the mention of his name does to me. It jolts me like a slap, igniting a chain reaction that weaves through me with the power of a tsunami. Sophia's name is the first that hits me. Where the hell is she?
I push the thoughts down before they reach my face. I can’t give Margarita the truth. If she doesn’t know why Iwas there, she doesn’t know about Sophia, and I’ll keep it that way.
"Yeah," I say slowly, "I was hired to kill Silvestre."
Her eyes glint. "By whom?"
I let a cold smile spread across my face. "No."
She tilts her head. "No?"
"I won’t tell you who hired me. A fact you should appreciate. It means I keep my word."
Her expression doesn’t change, but I see a flicker of approval, even if she’d rather die than admit it.
"To come to an agreement," I continue, "I won’t fulfill the contract." I pause, leaning slightly forward. "And I’ll take care of the person who hired me."
One perfectly arched brow lifts.
"Satisfied?" I add.
She holds my gaze for a long beat before she nods. "Partially."
We fall silent as she pulls out her phone, making me realize I have nothing. No phone, no tablet. No way to reach anyone.
Mario. Pierre. Both gone. My two best men—my friends—wiped out in minutes because I underestimated the Valverde. My soldiers… probably scattered or dead, too. All I have left is the image of Sophia in that fortress, and the hollow weight of knowing I failed her again.
