Reckless. Stupid. Dangerous. And I let it get to me.
My jaw aches from clenching as I pace the length of my office. I should’ve ignored her the way I always do. But she knew exactly where to aim, and I let her hit the mark. I stood over her like a fucking amateur, letting her see too much. Letting every single one of my men in that room see too much.
It’s not her boldness that enrages me. It’s that I allowed it. That I wanted to see how far she would go.
She thinks it’s a game. She thinks she’s safe because I haven’t snapped her in half yet. That because I have a deal with her brother, I won’t step over the invisible line that is drawn between us. She doesn’t understand what she’s playing with. Or maybe she does, and she’s too arrogant to care.
I drag a hand over my face, force my breathing back under control. I have bigger problems. Mancini problems.
My phone buzzes across the desk. Theo.
I answer on the second ring. “Report.”
“They broke faster than expected,” he says, his voice low and clipped. “One of them gave up a name. Two Mancini soldiers are moving product through the port in three nights. They’ll be there in person.”
Three nights. Too bold. Too soon.
They’re testing me, pressing to see if the Castello is weak. When the Mancini brothers came asking me to use the port and Castello for moving their drugs, I refused, and now they’re trying to force my hand.
I refuse to involve myself in the mafia more than I already am. The New York Camorra is more than a handful to deal with, and if it wasn’t for my dumbass brother, I wouldn’t tolerate them.
I didn’t leave that life behind to just be dragged back into it. “Send it to me so I can confirm. I want eyes on every corner of that dock, even if it’s just rats scurrying along.”
“Yes, boss.” He hesitates. “There’s more.”
I wait.
“They asked about her.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Be specific.”
“The Folonari girl. They wanted to know is she’s here. If she’s…yours.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw, but I force the words out evenly. “What did you tell them?”
Theo exhales. “That no one touches what’s under your roof. Ever.”
Good. Still, the damage is done. The Mancinis already suspect. They smelled the weakness I swore I wouldn’t give them or anyone else. And I gave it to them myself.
I end the call without another word and set the phone down with lethal calm.
Three nights. That’s all I have to send a message that the Castello isn’t weak. ThatI’mnot weak.
I should be thinking strategy, but all I can see is Mara, bright and reckless in my halls, painting a target across her back every time she opens that sharp little mouth. And all I can hear is her voice.
I pour another scotch, let the burn scrape down my throat. Three nights until the port. Three nights until I bleed the Mancinis enough that they choke on their own ambition.
But even as I plan, even as I promise myself war, my focus drags back to her. Reckless. Soft. Bright. Painting a target on herself with every smirk, every taunt, every fucking word.
I should shut her down. Lock her away until this problem is gone and her brother can take her back to New York. But I won’t.
Because when she finally pushes me too far, when she learns what it means to provoke a man like me, I want to be the one to teach her the cost.
19
MARA
If Nicolo thinks silence is enough to push me away, to stop me from pushing through to the end of my plan, then he’s delusional.
