Elio murmurs, “She must be something—got that Moretti fire burning. Matteo would love to see it, but alas,” he says with a sigh. “He can’t, can he, because he’s dead.”
I force my expression to stay calm even as my pulse roars. “This isn’t about Matteo, he has nothing to do with anything, not us and no longer you.”
“Oh, we disagree,” Alex says quietly. “You killed him. Or your brother did. Or both, doesn’t matter to be honest, but my point is—we haven’t forgotten, and we don’t forgive.”
I smile coldly. “Don’t start something that won’t end well for you.”
Their eyes flare with hate.
Good. They need the warning. Idiots think I’m bluffing. They have no idea what me and my family are capable of when one of our own is threatened. And Dallen, she’s mine, not theirs to toy with, injure or kill.
Mine…
“Last warning, boys. Stay away from Dallen. Don’t poke a bear you can’t outrun.”
Alex grins. “We’ll stay away if she does. She’s our lawyer—hard to avoid.” He shrugs. “Want her to drop us? That’d be a disappointment to her bosses and may be hard to accomplish.”
My muscles lock, tension racing through me as my eyes narrow. And for the first time, they know it. They know I can’t control everything, certainly not her bosses nor her family, who are hell bent on ridding me from her life.
Elio raises his glass. “To our new legal counsel. And to you, Stephen. Congratulations. It seems you’ve got yourself a woman worth bleeding for.”
Alex adds, “And a woman worth taking, if someone wanted revenge.”
I stand so suddenly that both men flinch. “That will never happen.”
Alex smiles slowly. “Then you better make damn sure she’s kept safe. Lots of dangers in New York. Murder capital of the world the last I heard. So many missing women, quite sad really,” he says, nonchalant.
I walk away before I pick up the spoon and scoop their eyes from their heads. My jaw clenches so tight it aches, every instinct sharpened to a blade. They think they found a way to drag us back into war. Over my dead, shattered body.
Or over theirs first.
FOURTEEN
DALLEN
Stephen returnsto the table with the kind of barely leashed energy that sets my nerves on edge. The auction is winding down, the low buzz of conversation rising again as everyone shifts in their seats, ready for the dance to begin afterward. I reach for my glass of wine, needing to calm my nerves after what we just did before dessert is served. My mother is chatting with the couple beside her, my father is speaking with a local councilman, and, for a rare moment, no one is paying attention to what’s happening between Stephen and me.
Except the man himself, of course. He’s so intense, so engaged that it’s a little intimidating and not what I’m used to.
He sits beside me without a word. His arm brushes mine, and even that small contact feels electrified. My pulse jumps, stupidly hopeful at the idea that the storm between us might finally be passing.
But when he turns to me, the tension in his jaw tells me otherwise.
“You’re not working with them.” His words are low, urgent.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“The Romeros, you can’t work for them. I forbid it.”
My stomach contracts painfully. He forbids it. I almost scoff at his gumption to say such a thing to a woman he’s known for all of five minutes. Seriously, the man needs to read the room. “I don’t think what I do at my work is relevant, nor is it appropriate or allowed for me to discuss my clients. What I do at Redwood and Tully is none of your business, and neither is their choice on who we pick up and represent.”
His nostrils flare, and I ignore the nerves that settle in my stomach. I know, somehow deep within me, that he wouldn’t hurt me, punish me for being disobedient, but still, he’s an intimidating man, and it takes a lot to stand up for what I know is right, not just for my employment, but for me. I cannot allow him to think he can rule me.
“No,” I cut in, voice tight. “My job isn’t up for debate, Stephen. We’ve known each other for five minutes. My clients have nothing to do with this.”
His eyes narrow—like he’s trying to choose his words carefully while keeping his composure. “They’re not good men, Dallen.”
I can figure that out myself and don’t need anyone to tell me. After I’m given a case, I research the family. Law firms don’t just represent clean parties. Some of the wealthiest people in the world are far from clean; the Romeros are no different.
