Ruski?
My face contorts.
I’m a goddamn De Silva Italian through and through, and of course he knows exactly how to taunt me.
“Don’t play me, the Limoncellois right there next to that bottle. What do you want, Angelo?”
“Can’t I visit my brother?” He shrugs, then takes another sip.
“Not without an ulterior motive, you don’t,” I retort.
He raises his glass. “Touché.”
“How’s Dad doing?” I ask.
“Fine.” He takes another sip of his vodka. “If you call hiding in the bedroom fine.”
“He needs to go outside,” I tell him.
He glances at me. “So do you.”
I raise a brow at him. “I’m not the one hiding in my bedroom while Mom’s killer is still at large.”
“No, you’re just channeling your grief into raging violence.” He smiles. “I know you.”
I fold my arms. “So that’s what you came to do here? To scold me?”
“I came because Dad asked me to come check on you.”
I raise a brow. “And he couldn’t do that himself?”
“You know what he’s like.”
Of course. If there’s anything my dad can do to avoid confrontation, he’ll take the chance, no matter the cost to his own family.
“Dad had to hear from his mole in the Costa family that you attacked Lucio at his wedding.” He hands me his glass. “Take a sip.”
I do what he says, but only because I need to feel my insides burn or I’ll shout. “He’s angry.”
“That’s an understatement,” he states. “Take another sip.”
I roll my eyes but do as he says.
“He wants you to cease all fighting.”
I nearly crush the glass in my hand. “No fucking way.”
“It’s going to cause a war between families. You know that, right?”
“Too late,” I say. “I already cut off several of his fingers.”
Angelo nearly chokes on his drink. “Well, that escalated quicker than I thought it would.”
“I’m avenging our mother. And I thought you knew me well enough that you’d understand I will never, ever stoptorturing that son of a bitch.”
He takes in a deep breath and sighs. “Another.”
I reluctantly take another sip, but he snatches the glass back from my hands and takes a sip too. “I figured you’d say that.”
