Now, as I sat facing the men before me, a knot of regret and uncertainty twisted in my stomach. Had I made the right decision by staying silent about my true preference? The question gnawed at me, each second stretching the tension in the room tighter. I could feel the weight of every choice that had led me here pressing down on my shoulders—choices made out of fear, love, and necessity. If only I had spoken up, would thingsbe different now? The stakes felt enormous: one wrong move, one misplaced word, and I risked not only my safety, but the fragile trust I was trying to build in a room full of men who didn’t easily give theirs away.
I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice against the nerves fluttering in my chest. “Would it be okay if I made a call?” My words came out more tentatively than I intended, my hands fidgeting in my lap.
Aurelio, who sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, met my gaze. There was none of the easy charm or quick wit I remembered from our encounter at Fratelli’s Deli—just a guarded intensity, his features carved into seriousness. “You better wait and ask Massimo,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I bristled, frustration rising. “And why do I need his permission to make a call?”
Luca shrugged, with a hint of impatience sharpening his words. “It’s not about the call itself. It’s about who you’re calling.” He barely looked at me, as if the outcome was already obvious and the conversation a formality.
I looked around the room, searching for any hint of support or leniency, but found only watchful eyes and unreadable expressions. “You know who I want to call?” I challenged, my voice steadying with defiance.
All four men nodded, their responses eerily in sync. “Ravage,” they answered as one, my brother’s club name heavy with implication—a single word that said more than any explanation could.
Leaning back in my chair, I smirked. “Are you gentlemen afraid of my brother?”
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick as fog. Aurelio’s jaw tensed, yet he held my gaze, an unspoken warning in his steady eyes.
“No one here is afraid,” he replied coolly, though the barely perceptible flicker in his expression suggested otherwise. “We just understand what’s at stake.”
The others shifted in their seats, the tension palpable, as if every breath risked shattering a delicate balance. I realized then that fear wasn’t the only thing keeping them cautious—it was respect, obligation, and the tangled history they all shared.
“And what’s at stake if I call my brother?”
Luca’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Our brother’s life.”
I sat up straighter, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket. The room seemed to shrink, the gravity of the situation making every detail sharper. It was more than a simple phone call; it was a choice that could tip the scales between loyalty and betrayal, between safety and danger.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I refused to let them see uncertainty. “If that’s true, then maybe I should be asking why his life is on the line in the first place,” I whispered, letting the challenge linger in the charged silence.
The question struck a nerve, drawing out a subtle ripple of discomfort among the men. Aurelio leaned forward, his voice low and measured. “There are things you don’t know—things none of us can change now. Our brother made a choice. His choice has consequences.” He paused, the silence stretching as if daring me to push further.
Luca’s eyes darted to the floor, betraying more than he likely intended, while the others avoided my gaze, the truth hanging just out of reach.
“And what choice was that?”
“I married the enemy,” Massimo growled from the doorway, looking directly at me. “We need to talk. Now.”
The Vitale brothers rose in unison, the scrape of chair legs on the marble floor barely more than a whisper. Without a word,they slipped out, the last pausing at the door—a soft click sealing me inside with Massimo, affording us an uneasy solitude.
He remained rooted against the far wall, his silhouette tense and stoic. Shadows curled under his eyes, and his knuckles were white where his hands tightened, then released. For a moment that expanded and threatened to swallow us, Massimo’s gaze was unwavering; his jaw worked wordlessly, a storm trapped just beneath the surface. I could almost hear his breath, slow and ragged, as if controlling it cost him dearly. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant ticking of a clock, each second amplifying the distance between us, each tick a reminder of things unsaid.
With a movement that was more command than surrender, he growled—and finally crossed the room, lowering himself into the chair opposite me. His posture was rigid, his gaze searching, as though he might gather answers simply by watching me breathe.
“I want to go home.” My words sounded smaller than I intended, catching in the expanse between us.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them, something wounded flickering beneath the steel.
“No.” His voice was rough, demanding. The word lingered, heavier than a slammed door, suffused with all the things he would not say aloud.
I stiffened under the weight of his refusal, every muscle strung tight. My request hovered between us, fragile and aching, and I felt the twinge of longing twist inside me.
“You can’t keep me here forever, Massimo.” My voice wavered, but I made myself meet his gaze. I refused to let him see how afraid I was, even as my heart hammered against my ribs—each beat a warning, each breath a fight to keep my expression calm. I could taste the metallic tang of anxiety at theback of my throat, my skin prickling with the urge to move, to escape, to do anything but sit in this charged stillness.
His lips curved into a smirk, the expression cold and unyielding. “That’s where you are wrong,wife. I can do whatever the hell I want.” His words hung heavy with finality and the unspoken rules of his world.
I lowered my gaze to my hands, searching for something steady in their trembling. The question slipped out, quiet but insistent. “You knew who I was when you bumped into me at Fratelli’s Deli, didn’t you?”
He did not hesitate. “Yes.”
