“Maybe not, but you’ve been screwing up his plans.”
Reaching out, I grabbed a fistful of her slicked-back ponytail, wrapping it around my palm twice before yanking her head back with enough force to expose the sharp angles of her cheekbones. “You’ll be keeping your mouth shut, Valentina,” I warned.
“I could,” she gloated. “But I fear that’ll cost you extra.”
My grip loosened until I’d let her go. I was stuck paying her to keep her mouth shut—it was a shame I couldn’t get anything else out of her.
“Threatening me again. I’m shocked.” I drew in a long breath. “Why don’t you go ask your husband for money, huh? Does he not have enough to distract you?”
She laughed. “Relax,mijo. I’m kidding. I have money and my dignity. A shame you can’t say the same.”
“What do you want? Spit it out.”
“Nothing. You’ll be a dead man soon enough—I don’t want to get too attached.” She winked before drawing in a breath. “He’s catching on to you. Testing you.”
“Probably because you can’t keep your damn mouth shut.”
“Neither can my niece. You seem to have a thing for that.”
I scoffed. Valentina was hardly an aunt. She’d married Cillian, Liam’s brother-in-law, a year ago. All she’d had to do to earn her spot in the family was bat her lashes; meanwhile, I’d had to do unspeakable things to be where I was, working directly under Liam.
“Stay out of this,” I urged.
“You need to leave that girl alone.”
“I haven’t overstepped my boundaries, Valentina, but you are. Next time I speak with your husband, I might slip up andtell him how I know you have a tattoo under your breast. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Her confidence drifted away. She was nervous, which was an odd reaction from Valentina. Did she fear Cillian? The chances were likely.
She straightened her posture, taking in a long breath before saying, “Liam would kill you if he found out what you were doing. Test me—go ahead. You’re gettingsloppy.”
“I have it all figured out.”
“You don’t. Quit while you’re ahead, or the next funeral I’ll be attending will be yours, and that would be a shame.” Her dark eyes scrutinized me from head to toe. “You’re too pretty to die, Romano,” she said with such certainty I almost believed her.
CHAPTER 4
ROSALIE
“Are you listening to me?” my mother questioned as she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat—a recent addition to her extensive collection—while placing her newest catalog, glossy and filled with the latest trends, down on the glass table between us.
The truth was, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was going on about. I was ready for a long, much-needed nap.
“Yes.” I mustered a smile—forced and probably unconvincing, judging by the way her perfectly arched eyebrow shot up.
“No, you’re not. I don’t know why I even bother anymore. You’re just like your father.”
I looked up at her through my glasses, their frames balanced on the bridge of my nose, while I nursed the frozen drink in my hands. This one tasted like lime. The tequila was my favorite part.
I took a sip and looked out over the pool. Daisy was on the other side chatting with one of my mother’s friends, Margot, on the patio. Margot wore a blue floral dress that matched the pool’s shimmering turquoise surface, and her long neck wasdecorated with a pearl necklace, which was probably genuine considering her husband’s salary.
Margot owned a gallery in the city—a fact I knew from having endured countless car rides filled with my mother’s effusive praise for her “artistic vision.” Truth be told, I wouldn’t know the difference between her art and a crayon scribble on a napkin, but for some reason, my mother loved it.
“Is Margot having a showing soon?” I asked.
“Yes,” my mother mumbled. “Do you plan on attending?”
The gallery was nice, but attending showings often felt like the social equivalent of watching paint dry—only, paint was probably more stimulating than the forced conversations and endless small talk about finger food and the weather.
