"But you don’t have to conceal it from me, right?" I say, raising an eyebrow.
Storm is silent for a moment, then exchanges a glance with Mr. Gessler before finally speaking.
"Eliano is a member of the Ferro crime family. But he wants nothing to do with them and cut all ties. He doesn’t want his brother, Rocco, who has just become the new capo, to take an interest in him."
"The Ferros? They’re big, aren’t they? The biggest in the city," I blurt out, rubbing my chin. "Oh well. Why am I even surprised? He looks the part. Very Italian. "
"One last piece of information about Eliano. He has never been an active mafioso. His uncle forced him to take part in underground fighting contests, which he hated. That was his life."
"What’s his age?"
"Twenty. In four months, he’ll turn twenty-one."
"Damn, I figured he was just some kid, but younger than me? That little shit!"
Storm rolls his eyes.
"And who’s talking, a twenty-two-year-old fossil?"
I pout and flip him off.
Storm snorts. "It means nothing in alphas. He can still challenge a beta energetically, so kid or not, he won’t be easy to play."
"We’ll see." I frown and quickly redirect the topic. "Is that all he ever did? Fight?"
"He has some education. His uncle ordered him to study law online. He completed two years of criminal law, but he told me the field didn’t interest him that much."
"So… he doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to study. What does he want?" I ask, slightly amused.
Since I was eighteen, I have been working at a tattoo parlor ten hours a day, and my professional future was clearly defined. This is obviously not the case for Eliano.
"Well, he told me he also runs a journalism blog and would like to work as an investigative journalist in the future."
I let out a disgruntled snort.
A twenty-year-old kid, no stable job, and a shady background? Even with my limited knowledge, I know what the mafia means. Filth, drugs, racketeering, forcing people into prostitution. Disgusting pigs. But as I said, for now it doesn’t interfere with my plan, so I shut my mouth. Murderers don’t get to grumble, anyway.
"I’m not digging into it any deeper," I mutter, averting my eyes. "So. I become Salt… Ferro, right? Married to a mafioso."
Storm nods. "Yep. To a full-blooded Ferro prince."
I chuckle stupidly. For a few seconds I turn this around in my head, letting my thoughts swirl.
Then it suddenly hits me. "So why isn’t he here? Did the bastard chicken out, too ashamed to look me in the eye and explain himself?"
Storm grimaces slightly. "Damien already took him to our house. He’ll be staying with us overnight. Tomorrow we’ll lendhim a car so he can drive to the Hallwell port. That’s where you’ll meet him."
"I still don’t get why he couldn’t show up here, at least shake my hand and say, 'Damn it, Salt, we’re getting married now, and maybe try to figure things out with me.’ Did he get scared?"
Storm sighs. "No. He wanted to come. But I admit it was my suggestion that he didn’t, and let you both cool down. I honestly preferred that you didn’t unload a string of curses straight into his face, and I know exactly that you would have."
"You bet I would!"
"You’re proving my point, Salt."
"Whatever. It’s a coward move either way," I shrug. "But be it your way. I’ll marinate my emotions overnight and unload them on him tomorrow, nice and fermented."
Mr. Gessler straightens slightly, and something close to anger flashes across his face.
