“Lee.” Piper steps forward, kissing her friend’s cheek. “You look amazing. Pink is definitely your color.”
“Thanks, Pipes.” Raven squeezes Piper’s hand, some silent communication passing between them. “You look amazing as always.” She slaps her friend’s ass for good measure.
We move inside, the grand hall opening before us with its cathedral ceilings and dark-paneled walls. Family portraits and artifacts line the space—generations of Russos watching us from gilded frames, judging, assessing.
Remus rises from where he’s been lounging in a leather chair, drink in hand. He approaches with the measured stride of a predator, stopping at a precise distance that somehow manages to be both polite and intimidating.
Even though my cousins saw Raven yesterday in my apartment, Remus is acting like this is the first time he’s seeing her.
“You must be the famous Raven,” he says, voice smooth as aged whiskey. His eyes move over her as if he’s cataloging weaknesses, assessing threat levels. “I’ve heard quite a bit about the woman who’s tamed our Matteo.”
“Nobody’s tamed him,” Raven volleys, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I like him wild.”
I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. The move is instinctive—protective and possessive in equal measure. Remus notices, his mouth curving into a knowing smirk.
“Remus Russo,” he introduces himself, extending his hand. “Don of the family. Welcome to our home.”
Raven takes his hand without hesitation. “Lena Raven Carter. But everyone calls me Raven.”
“And what should I call you?” Remus asks, still holding her hand a beat too long.
“Whatever you want,” she shrugs. “As long as it’s with respect.”
A laugh explodes from the doorway, and Rafe saunters in. “Oh, she’s perfect,” he declares, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to jostle me. “No wonder you’re so whipped, cousin.”
“I’ll whip you if you keep talking,” I reply mildly, but there’s an edge to it that makes his grin widen.
“Rafe Russo.” He turns to Raven with an exaggerated bow. “The handsome cousin. The charming one. The—”
“The modest one, clearly,” Raven interrupts, and I feel a surge of pride at how easily she handles him.
Rafe laughs again, delighted. “I like her already. Much more fun than Piper. No offense,” he adds with a nod toward my cousin’s wife.
“Some taken,” Piper replies dryly.
Raven shakes her head and laughs. “You only say that because you don’t know her.” Pausing, she winks at her friend. “Pipes’ tons of fun.”
Remus gestures toward the dining room. “Shall we? Dinner’s waiting.”
The Russo dining room could double as a war room. Dark wood panels line the walls, adorned with paintings of Italian landscapes and family ancestors who look like they’d murder you for using the wrong fork.
Remus sits at the head, with Enzo and Piper to his right. Raven and I sit across from them, and Rafe takes his seat at the other end. The silence that falls is heavy with unspoken words and the weight of recent events.
“Before we begin,” Remus says, raising his glass, “to Vito and Kayla. May their killers suffer long before they die.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by the toast, but I am. Sure, my cousins knew of Vito and Kayla, even met them multiple times. But it’s not as if they knew each other.
Everyone raises their glasses, but I notice Raven’s hesitation, the way her knuckles whiten around her stem. I cover her hand with mine beneath the table.
“Matteo,” Enzo begins, his tone shifting to something almost resembling concern, “let us know if you need our help with—”
“It’s handled,” I cut him off. “Everything’s arranged. Their families want private services without our involvement, which I’ve paid for.”
I took care of most of this while Raven slept after I accidentally caused her concussion. Thanks to the Russo reputation, a lot of favors and money, I’ve had everything sped up so the families can get closure.
“Let’s not discuss it further,” I add. “What’s done is done. Neither of them would like knowing we were discussing their deaths instead of what caused it.”
Raven’s thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, a silent offering of support that means more than any words could. I squeeze her thigh in response, feeling her lean subtly into my touch.
