Matteo has been silent through all this. Now he leans back in his chair, a calculating look in his eyes. “If she’s a victim, use that. Make her want revenge on her father too. Turn her into our weapon.”
I think of Adora’s face as I destroyed that photograph. How broken she looked, sitting in the ruins of her happy family’s memories.
Revulsion lances through me, sharp and sudden.
“No,” I say.
Both Sofia and Matteo look surprised.
“No?” Matteo repeats.
“I won’t use her like that.”
Sofia’s expression becomes knowing. “Then perhaps ask yourself why you keep finding excuses to see her instead of putting a bullet in her head.”
My jaw clenches. “I’m gathering intelligence. Watching the house. Waiting for the right moment.”
“You kissed her,” Sofia says. “Many times now.”
I fumble for an explanation. “It was strategic. To throw her off-balance and show her I’m the one with the power. To make her think I want her.”
“And do you? Want her?” Sofia asks.
“Of course not.” The denial comes too quickly, too harshly.
Their silence feels like a live grenade.
I think of Adora in my arms, her body fitted against mine like she was made to be there. Her desperate kisses in the laundromat. The way she melted into my body, seeking my warmth. The devastation in her eyes when I destroyed her photograph.
Matteo and Sofia exchange a look.
“You know what bothers me most about what you did tonight?” Sofia says. “Don Agnello destroys what people love. He takes away what gives us joy. Our family. Tonight, Vincenzo, you did the same to that poor girl.”
“I’m an assassin,” I remind her with a stony glare. “I’m no better than him. I kill people for money.”
Sofia stands and comes around the table. She cups my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her eyes. “You’re an assassin, and you’ve killed many dangerous men in our world. But to my knowledge, you’ve never hurt a woman. Are you still the man your mother raised? Or are you turning into what you hate the most?”
Mom was strong and principled. She had lines she wouldn’t cross, even in our world.
Sofia releases my face and steps back. “You want justice for our family? Fine. Kill Agnello. But don’t become him in the process. Don’t destroy innocent people because their last name is Montoni.”
Matteo is watching me closely. “The engagement,” he says suddenly. “You demanded Adora from Agnello. Are you actually going through with it?”
I think about that. Binding myself to Adora legally, publicly, and irrevocably. Making her mine in every sense of the word. My wife. In my bed. Those beautiful eyes looking up at me with something other than fear. Her body against mine, not just in stolen moments, but every night. Waking up to her warmth, her sighs, molded to me like she was made for me.
My body responds before my mind can catch up. Christ. I shift in my chair, trying to ignore the tightness in my jeans.
The idea of making Adora Montoni my bride should repulse me.
Instead, my chest tightens with what might be anticipation.
She’s mine.
No one else’s.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you better figure it out,” Matteo says. “Because the men need to know what we’re doing. Are we at war with the Montonis, or are we forgetting about revenge and moving on? They need a don who can decide.”
