“Holy fucking shit,” Enzo breathed.
Blinking, unable to believe my eyes, I called out to the young man, “Nico, what’s the meaning of this?”
Adjusting his cufflinks, the younger man held my stare. “I think it should be obvious.” There was a beat of silence before he added, “Cousin.”
Enzo’s temper flared, “You double-crossing, mother—”
“Oh, come now.” Nico tsked. “Is that any way to speak to your little brother? What happened to ‘Bellinis always stick together’?” The bumbling computer geek was suddenly smooth as silk.
Guess I’m not the only one in this family who could win an award for their acting skills.
I scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from a guy who wormed his way into our good graces, earning our trust, while keeping it a secret that we’re related.”
Dario cut into our exchange. “I have to say, my first attempt at procreation was”—his eyes lifted to Enzo, a look of disgust pulling at his features—“disappointing at best. But my second attempt . . .” He chuckled. “Well, it was everything I could have dreamed of and more.” Smirking, he asked, “Did you know Nico has a twin sister?”
My eyes bulged. There weretwoof them?
Fuck us all to Hell. This got worse by the minute.
“Darling, would you like to come out and say hello?”
From behind my uncle, a woman appeared. One I recognized instantly.
Rory gasped beside me. “Oh my God, it’sher.”
Dario beamed at his raven-haired daughter. “I believe you’ve met Arianna.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” she purred.
Faced with the woman who’d tried to kill my son, my free fist clenched, my trimmed nails biting in my palm. “I suppose I should thank you for showing your hand, Uncle. You’ve made itexceedingly easy to eliminate you and your mutinous offspring and end this uprising before it goes any further.”
He hummed condescendingly. “That won’t be happening.” Gesturing around the room to all the guns—half aimed at him, half aimed in defense of him—Dario remarked, “It would seem that, for now, we are at an impasse. Perhaps it’s best that we retire to our separate corners of the ring before the next round begins.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk out of here alive. This ends here. Tonight.”
“I’d caution you to re-evaluate that position, nephew.”
“And why would I do that?”
Rory clutched at my arm, her voice trembling. “Gio?”
“A little busy at the moment,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
“Gio,” Matteo uttered my name, his tone urgent.
“What?” I yelled, head whipping to the side.
My brother’s eyes dipped, and when I tracked his gaze, I stopped breathing. A red dot from a sniper’s scope stood out in stark contrast to the silver fabric of my wife’s dress, its position right at her navel, aimed at our son.
Murderous rage coursed through my veins as I turned to face Dario once more. “This isn’t over.”
“Far from it,” he agreed, then to my wife he said, “Your current . . . predicament”—Dario’s gaze dropped to her stomach—“is rather regrettable, Rory. If I’d have known Gio tracked your location, I would have moved you out of Colorado sooner.”
“What?” My eyes volleyed between Dario and Rory.
Smug, my uncle asked, “Would you like to tell him, Rory, or should I?”
Chapter 18
