I straighten, my jaw clenching. “I’m not scared, Leoni. But tonight mattered. I needed it to go my way.”
She turns in my arms then, fully facing me, searching my expression, trying to read my deepest thoughts. “What business do you have here? What’s going on?”
I release her and move away, bracing my hands against the stone wall, staring out at the city. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“No?” she snaps. “Then why did I feel like I was on trial back there?” She steps closer. “All those questions; what was he really asking?”
I drag a hand down my face. “You ask too many questions.”
“And you keep too many secrets,” she fires back without hesitation.
“Yes,” I hiss, spinning back toward her and pinning her against the wall, my voice low and sharp. “And they aremysecrets.”
She doesn’t flinch. She just looks at me. Hurt, anger, understanding and disappointment all colliding in her eyes.
“Then don’t bring me to places like this,” she says quietly, “and leave me to fend for myself.” She slips past me before I can respond, heels sharp against stone as she storms away.
I exhale slowly, rubbing a hand over my jaw. She’s dramatic. She’s passionate. And fuck, she gets under my skin like no one else ever has.
Anthony reappears at my side. “You’re not going after her?”
“Let her cool off,” I mutter.
“It went well with Toni?”
I nod. “We have a deal.”
He releases a slow breath. “Then the real work begins.”
“When we get back, things will be easier,” I say. “Once my father’s out of the way, Erik can choose a side. Either way, he won’t be a problem.”
Anthony arches a brow. “You’re letting him live?”
“Without my father pulling his strings, he’s harmless.”
“Harmless men still cause damage,” Anthony says evenly. “What about Nancy? How are you planning to keep her father onside?”
I don’t answer right away. Because that’s the question I don’t yet have a clean answer for.
Chapter Sixteen
LEONI
“A pretty lady like yourself shouldn’t be sitting alone looking so… unhappy.”
The smooth Italian accent slides over me like silk. I turn slightly on my stool as the man eases into the space beside me. He’s handsome in an effortless, dangerous way. Dark eyes. A Sharp smile. And dimples that probably get him whatever he wants.
I swirl the olive in my martini with my cocktail stick, watching it spin.
“I’ll take a dirty martini,” he tells the barman easily. “And another for the lady.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy. My head is still full of my father, the prison visit, Warren’s uncle, and the weight of unspoken things pressing down on my chest.
Everything feels heavy.
“Are you always this shy?” he asks.
I sigh and take the drink, knocking it back in one go before popping the olive into my mouth.“I’m not shy,” I say flatly. “I’m pissed off.”
