Valentine’s eyes flare, then he closes them slowly, acknowledging I’m right without saying a word.
“We promised her some time so she could figure out what she wants to do.” I clap his shoulder as we both walk into the elevator. “That’s why we’ve been creating diversions all day.”
And we have. The guard who spat at our wife is now in the hospital, waiting for surgery to rewire his broken jaw back together, and his brother is currently sifting through the remains of the ashes of their family home.
“You can drop me off on your way to see Claudia’s father.”
“Jesus, I forgot about that. Yeah, fine.” Valentine flicks off another text to Dante. “I’ll swing back and pick him up, because there is no chance in hell I am going there without backup.”
Talking shop is a good distraction for both of us.
“There’s another shipment due next week, but the Irish are saying there will be a delay. Something about Vitale shortchanging them.”
“Strange,” Valentine hisses. “I remember the three of us signing off on the invoice the Irish sent over, and we even added a bonus for our appreciation. Mending fences with the Irish is a long-term strategy, one we can’t afford to have Vitale intentionally screw up now. For some reason, the prick is insistent on setting fire to as many bridges as possible before he fucking dies.”
“Which is why our pack has been working hard on new alliances,” I offer, clicking my seat belt as Valentine speeds out of our garage.
“I’ll give Ronin a call once I drop you off and let him know our pack has paid as we agreed.”
“Make sure you apologize,” I say, being as surly as he is. Which is not my place.
Valentine bites back almost immediately. His scent is bitter, and I know I’ve hit a nerve by telling him how to do his job. “Matty, I get you’re fucking stressed, but I don’t need your fucking attitude. If I call the up-and-coming head of the Irish and say sorry for hurting his fucking feelings because my grandfather bent him over and shafted him in a deal, I’m pretty sure he’ll laugh in my face before promising to burn our shipment on the road outside our home.”
I scrub my hand down my face. I know he’s right, but at the same time, Valentine can have a one-track mind when he focuses on the future. He’s like a bull at a gate, and while people aren’t wrong about the Italians flying off the handle at the slightest provocation, the Irish turn into clumps of fucking concrete at even smaller signs of disrespect.
“Besides, I need to call him for another matter,” Valentine says, and we’re back to being on the same page after both our outbursts. “I’m inviting him to come to our dinner party next week.”
“If she agrees.”
“She will,” he replies, smug as hell.
But I know he’s not as confident as he’s been letting on. Layne’s got us all acting out of sorts, and considering the week we have planned, it’s not the run up we would have liked. We’re going to be making the Red Wedding inGame of Throneslook like a kid’s birthday party.
Valentine pulls up in front of Carlos’s coffee shop, directly opposite the community library that Dante showed her on the map. Neither of us says a word, but the Escalade stinks with our shared stress.
“You know I love you like a brother, Matteo, but I swear to fucking god, if you don’t bring her back to us, I will…”
I climb out and slam the door on his threats. The truth is, though, if I don’t bring her back, I’ll gratefully accept whatever punishment he sees fit.
Walking inside the coffee shop and trying to maintain an air of neutrality is hard when, as soon as the door opens, I am nearly swept off my feet by her scent. The day away from each other has only made her lush caramel scent more potent.
Across the crowded café, our eyes meet, and when she stands so quickly her chair drops to the ground, I know I made the right decision to come. We both take a step at the same time, the distance between us all but evaporating, and I reach for her, sweeping her into my arms.
“Layne,” I exhale, my nose against her hair, and the chaos of uncertainty that has been bubbling inside me all day settles. My anxiety doesn’t disappear completely—where she is concerned, it maybe never will—but that is fine.
We get jostled as the dogs circle protectively, and it’s a good reminder of being out in the public still. I let my arms fall away, but I don’t let her go. Dropping my arm over her shoulder, I usher her over to the counter.
“Carlos, this is Layne.”
Carlos is well past his prime—his stomach is testament to that, as are his laughter lines—but he still has plenty of love to give. It was a good day when “il coltello” decided to focus his knife skills in his café, although he passed his legacy to his son, Legos. Luckily, we grew up spending summers together because the mad bastard is as fearsome an assassin as his father, but he’s also one of our most loyal lieutenants.
Carlos throws his hands up. “She is way too beautiful. Look at all the customers she brings, just to sit in the same room as her.”
Layne blushes hard, and the pink of her cheeks makes her beauty radiate, and the lush notes of her caramel pool on my lips. It’s a sign of how rattled she is today when she snuggles against me under the weight of his attention. But if this is the life she chooses, she will need to get used to this kind of attention—as the Boss’s wife, as well as mine and Dante’s.
“I got you,” I say quietly and her eyes dance to mine. I like what I read in them, a growing acceptance.
Carlos goes to say more, but his wife, Gina, pokes her head out of the kitchen, and the man freezes up under the scowl of his wife.
