Giovanni’s eyes narrowed impatiently. “Get on with it, Mason.”
“Some of the shipments have been lighter than they should be. Money’s missing. And Vince here has been pointing fingers at me without proof.”
Vincenzo didn’t waste a second, his face turning red. “I know it’s you. You’ve been skimming off the top and blaming it on me.”
Mason laughed—a harsh sound that grated on Max’s nerves. “You’ve got no proof, Vince. Just you and your paranoia.”
Max turned to Giovanni. “He’s probably got my money. Marco’s too.”
Giovanni nodded. “Mikhail, take Mason outside.”
Mikhail stepped forward and took Mason, leading him out of the room.
Breaking the silence, Valentina ordered a glass of vodka from where she sat at the bar. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail, and she wore a sleek black dress that made the dark circles under her eyes stand out more. She looked tired.
The bartender placed the drink in front of her. As she reached for it, her hand trembled ever so slightly. She paused, took a deep breath, and then brought the glass to her lips.
I saw her eyes light up the moment she took a sip. I wondered how she’d been doing since Cillian passed.
Valentina’s phone buzzed on the counter, drawing her attention. She glanced at the screen, pressing her lips into a thin line. The message remained unread as she slipped the phone back into her clutch, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.
A group of men found their way to the bar, their loud laughter momentarily breaking their chatter. Valentina’s eyes darted toward them, her body tensing. One of the men offered his hand, attempting an introduction, but his efforts were useless. If only he knew never to offer Valentina a hand. She would never take it. Valentina had a track record of not allowing men to lay a hand on her, and that included simple introductions. She wasn’t interested—not even in the slightest.
I approached her, shooing off the men who surrounded her like flies. I honestly couldn’t blame them. She was stunning.
She tipped her head back, taking a few large sips of her drink, before she turned to face me. “I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
“Congratulations?” I asked, puzzled.
Valentina raised an eyebrow. “Your engagement, of course. To a mobster, no less.”
I laughed, caught off-guard for some reason. Valentina had a way of keeping everyone on their toes. “Oh, that. Yes, thank you. It’s been ... interesting.”
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “So what’s it like? Do you get a big gun to go with the ring?”
Her accent made everything she said amusing to me. “No, but I got a big, infuriating man to go with it. He’s always off doing who knows what.”
Valentina laughed. “They always are. Your uncle was almost never home. He always had things in Chicago to deal with.”
“And how did you put up with it?” I asked, genuinely curious about how she managed.
She shrugged. “I didn’t marry him for love,mija. I was happy when he left. His absence was a blessing in disguise. I had the house to myself and could do as I pleased.”
I nodded, thinking about her words. Valentina’s perspective was always unique. “I guess it’s not so bad then, having all that freedom. But still, doesn’t it get lonely?”
She smiled. “Sometimes, yes. But you find ways to fill the void. Friends, hobbies, maybe a lover on the side if you’re discreet enough.”
I looked at her, a little surprised by her admittance. “You had a lover on the side?”
“Once, but that was a long time ago. I sleep with whoever I want now he’s dead. But enough about me. Tell me about you and him.”
I hesitated, not sure how to sum up my fiancé in a few words. “He’s complicated. Intense. Protective. Wants to have everything under his control. You know.”
Valentina tilted her head, studying me. “Sounds like a handful. Good luck planning a bachelorette party with him.”
“I’m not having one,” I replied. The idea of a bachelorette party seemed absurd to Max.
She blinked, a look of disbelief crossing her face. “Oh, you’ll be having one. Trust me. You need it even if you don’t realize it.”
