Nora sits on Pietro's lap, her hair falling over his shoulder as she whispers something in his ear. His hand rests possessively on her hip, and the look on his face?—
Christ. My brother, the stone-cold killer, looks soft.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Nora jumps slightly, color flooding her freckled cheeks. She starts to stand, but Pietro's hand tightens on her hip for a moment before releasing her.
"Lorenzo." Pietro's voice carries a warning, but there's no real heat behind it.
Nora smooths down her skirt as she stands.
She moves toward the door, but stops directly in front of me. Her green eyes study my face with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable.
"I don't know you that well," she says, her Boston accent softening the words. "But what you're doing for that girl? It's kind."
I snort. "I'm not kind."
She shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "You're all wrapped up in this bad guy image, Lorenzo Sartori. But underneath?" She reaches out and pats my chest, right over my heart. "You're one of the kindest men I've ever met."
"Careful,cara," Pietro calls from his desk. "Keep talking like that and he might actually believe you."
Nora laughs, the sound bright in the dark-paneled office. "You're all some kind of good bad monsters." She glances back at Pietro with a look that makes me want to leave the room. "Lucky for us girls who see through the wrapping."
She slips past me, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
I turn back to Pietro, who's watching me with those calculating eyes of his. The softness from moments ago has vanished completely.
"Sit." He gestures to the chair across from his desk.
I drop into it, waiting. Pietro doesn't speak immediately. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, takes a long drag. The smoke curls between us like a question mark.
"I've thought about it," he says finally. "Your proposal."
My jaw tightens. "And?"
"It's the best option for now." He taps ash into the crystal tray on his desk. "Francesco's backing us into a corner with this kidnapping story. The cops are sniffing around. The other families are choosing sides. We need to neutralize this before it explodes."
"So you agree to the marriage."
"I agree it's necessary." His eyes narrow. "But Lorenzo, if this goes sideways?—"
"I'll handle it."
"Arrange a meeting with Francesco. Neutral ground," Pietro says. "Somewhere public enough that he can't try anything stupid, but private enough for real conversation."
"The old warehouse on Ashland. The one the Benedettis use for their fights."
Pietro considers this. "That could work. Marco Benedetti owes me a favor."
"I'll make the call to Francesco."
"No." Pietro's voice cuts sharp. "We do this right. Official channels. I'll have Dante reach out to Francesco's consigliere. Set the terms. Tomorrow night, eight o'clock."
I nod, already moving toward the door.
"Lorenzo."
I pause, hand on the doorknob.
