I stay for most of the afternoon, making sure every fucking imaginable scenario is accounted for. And just before I leave, Rafe ends up giving me his word that his men will stand down if it comes to it.
Although I know he isn’t happy about it, I trust he’s being honest. I know it’s costing him a lot. We Russos are all about family. Leaving someone behind or making one of us clean up alone isn’t in our DNA.
I’m halfway to my car when my phone buzzes with a text. Tony’s name appears on the screen, the first contact since I reached out weeks ago.
Tony: Come to Emilio’s tonight. I’ll be in the bathroom around ten.
My jaw tightens as I read the message while sliding into my car, staring at the screen. This will interfere with my night with Raven. Unless…
Decision made, I start the engine. I’ll take Raven to dinner at Emilio’s. That way, the old man can let me know when Tony arrives. And I get to take my Little Thief somewhere special.
I pull out my lighter, flicking it open and closed as I drive. The familiar weight of it grounds me, the flame a reminder of what I am at my core. Fire. Destruction. Cleansing. And now, unexpectedly, warmth.
As much as I want to tell Tony to fuck off and spend all night with Raven, I can’t. I need Tony’s info. It’s not like my Little Thief won’t understand. She knows I’m hunting for vermin. This is just one more step in said hunt.
Chapter 25
Raven
My phone buzzes with a text from Matteo, letting me know he’ll be here in five. I dash to the bathroom for a final outfit check.
The black off-the-shoulder crop top leaves a sliver of skin exposed above the high waistband of my floor-length skirt, which falls in silky waves to my ankles. Interrupted only by the thigh-high slit that reveals a flash of leg when I walk.
My blonde hair’s twisted into a messy updo with tendrils framing my face. The outfit is perfect for the Leone Room—sexy but not desperate, revealing without giving all the goods away.
Sharp knocks on my door make me jump, even though I’m expecting them. I slide my feet into black stilettos, grab my clutch, and paste on a confident smile before opening the door.
Matteo leans against the doorframe, a study in lethal elegance. His tailored black suit fits as if it was poured over his body, the crisp white shirt beneath open at the collar, revealing the edges of his neck tattoos.
His hair is styled back from his forehead, drawing attention to the sharp angles of his face and the scars that somehow make him more beautiful rather than less. And, of course, the eyepatch I’m actually starting to dig.
“Hi,” I breathe, momentarily forgetting everything in the face of… well, his face.
His eyes drag down my body, lingering on the strip of exposed skin at my waist. “You look good enough to eat,” he says, voice pitched low enough to make goosebumps rise on my arms.
“Thanks,” I say, locking my door behind me. “So do you.”
We take the elevator down in silence, his presence filling the small space like smoke. In the lobby, I prepare myself for another night at the Leone Room—more eavesdropping, more pretending to be madly in love with the beautiful and dangerous man beside me.
… And itisjust pretend.
Pinning that.
When we’re inside his car, he leans forward and tells the driver to go to a place that most definitely isn’t the Leone Room.
“Change of plans?” I ask.
“Change of venue,” he corrects, taking my hand and running his thumb along my wrist. “You’ve earned a night off.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “From playing spy?”
“From the Leone Room.”
The car pulls away from the curb, gliding through Cleveland’s early evening traffic. We’re heading away from downtown, away from the familiar route to the club.
“So where are we going?” I ask when the silence stretches too long.
“Don’t worry, we’re not leaving the country.” Matteo’s lips curve in that almost-smile I like more than I want to admit. “We’re going to dinner.”
