Gina laughs, and it’s such a light, carefree sound, I want to hear it every day of my life. “Being Tommaso’s right-hand man doesn’t sound like a very pleasant job,” she teasingly taunts.
And I love it. Normally, the women in our world are trophies and ornaments, or cunning vipers who hide behind demure smiles, but Gina is unapologetically different.
Caruso looks like he’s going to have a stroke as his face turns beet red and he scowls at her.
Vincenzo steps up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and my hand instinctively moves toward the gun in the holster under my suit jacket. Silvio grips my wrist and pulls my hand back down to my side, all while Vincenzo remains completely unaware of how close he just came to death as he gazes down at Gina.
“Come sit beside me during dinner,” he says. “I’d love to hear about your time at Santa Elisabetta.”
Her smile sours slightly. “Not much to tell.”
There’s no way I want her sitting beside him during dinner. So I do the only thing I can.
I subtly push Marco, because he’s closest, into Vincenzo, who then sloshes his red wine onto his suit jacket. Guila almost dies, fluttering her hands and pulling him aside to dab at his jacket.
“Smooth,” Silvio says in my ear. “But what the hell are you doing, Tommaso?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I offer my elbow to Gina, watching as her small hand slips into the crook of my arm and feeling like a missing piece of myself slots into place. Then I lead her to the table, pull out the chair for her, and sit beside her as the others join us.
Vincenzo smiles at me, but I can tell he’s pissed off. Good, and fuck him.
Caruso takes the seat at the head of the table and flicks his hand at the serving staff. Conversation picks up around the table as the staff brings out theantipastoto start the meal of bruschetta, dried meat, cheese, and salad. Guila picks at her food like a bird, while Gina has no hesitation. I smile at her as she wipes a bit of oil from the corner of her mouth with her fingertip.
Then she rolls her eyes and holds up her linen napkin. “I’m supposed to use this.”
“A fingertip,” I lift mine and wipe the last bit that she missed, “is much more practical.”
Her dark brown eyes widen in surprise, and dare I say, interest.
I can feel everyone’s eyes boring into me, and I turn back to my food.
“Tell us, Tommaso, how do you propose to deal with the Triads, along with pressure from the other factions in the city?” Emanuele asks, then coughs, holding his big hand over his heart.
“Worried your portion of our profits will diminish?” I hike my brow. He doesn’t control the other families within our syndicate; however, we all tithe a portion of our profits to him.
“I’m curious to know as well,” Vincenzo pipes in as the first course is cleared, and the risotto is served.
Like hell I’m divulging our plans so openly. Neither would Emanuele nor Vincenzo, so I’m not sure why they’re asking. But before I challenge them on it, Gina speaks.
“Wouldn’t peace be more profitable?” she asks me, lifting a forkful of creamy risotto, and it’s a struggle not to fall into dirty visions of her perfect lips wrapping around my shaft.
“Yes,” I answer in surprise at her question.
Guila’s face is pinched that Gina isn’t remaining quiet. Caruso flashes his daughter a warning look, which she ignores, and lifts her chin, staring at me.
My hand slips inside the pocket of my suit jacket, where a bullet on a strip of leather sits—the first bullet I was shot with. I always keep it with me to remind myself that life is fragile and that all life has value. When I make the decision about someone’s fate, it’s not done lightly. “War is costly, both to human life and profits.”
“Then what would it take for a ceasefire and peace?” she asks.
Vincenzo chuckles, eyeing her from across the table. “That’s a bit naïve, princess.”
Her head snaps to him, and she glares. “I’m no princess.”
Guila’s mouth gapes. Caruso looks furious, but both Vincenzo and me chuckling makes him relax.
Vincenzo holds up his hands. “My apologies, beautiful. I meant no insult.”
Gina grumbles under her breath, “What is it with the nicknames tonight?” Then she looks back at me. “What would it take for a ceasefire and peace?”
