“Why is it empty?” Gia asked.
I had an idea. “Privacy,” I said, leaving out anything else I suspected.
Angus Scava smiled. He watched us enter, his gaze sliding over Gia as we approached. Sick prick. He was old enough to be her fucking father. Hell, he would have been if his son had stayed alive long enough to marry her.
I felt a note of possession at that. A hint of jealousy. Which was ridiculous, considering James was dead.
“Gianna.” He stood when we neared. “Pleasure to see you.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, then straightened. “You look enchanting. My son had wonderful taste.”
She only looked on coldly.
I cleared my throat. Scava turned to me.
“Dominic.”
“Angus.”
He gestured toward the booth. “Please. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing the wine. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all as long as you take the first sip,” Gia said.
Angus chuckled as we sat, and the waiter poured. He made a point of picking up his glass, swooshing the dark red liquid around and inhaling before drawing a long sip.
“I’m still alive,” he said to her.
She still didn’t touch hers, but I picked mine up and sipped.
“My condolences, once again, Dominic. I hear your uncle passed not too gently last night.”
“He was a liar and a traitor. He got what liars and traitors get.”
He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. “You’re as direct as your father.”
“You did some business with my uncle?” I asked.
“He and my nephew were involved in some things,” he said, his eyes catching Gia’s as he sipped.
I felt Gia tense beside me.
“Where is Victor?” she asked.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to invite him, considering.”
“Can we just cut this bullshit?” she spat out. “You talk like we’re all here having a friendly drink, but we’re not.”
I smiled. “She’s direct too.”
“You’ve changed, my dear,” he said to her.
“You’ve opened my eyes,” she replied.
Angus snapped his fingers, and we looked up. A door opened, and two men walked in, Victor between them. He wasn’t quite standing on his own. Instead, he was hunched over their shoulders and being kept upright, his head lolling from side to side, his face bruised, his feet dragging as they walked forward.
Gia gasped. I held her hand under the table.
“My nephew made some poor choices,” Angus said. “Concerning what happened to your brother, Gianna, you have my apology. And you’ll have Victor’s, well, you would except that he can’t really talk at the moment.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Gia said.
