“Well, Vincenzo isn’t even here,” I shot back, my voice cooling into something sharper, quieter.
“He’s too busy playing savior for Violet after her driver ‘accidentally’ scraped a guardrail.”
I paused, my jaw tightening slightly.
“This meeting won’t take long, will it? In and out.”
Renzo’s gaze flicked away from me for a second—toward the wall clock above the fireplace.
9:07 p.m.
The ticking filled the silence for a moment.
“We’ll be back before midnight,” he said at last, voice slower now, weighing the angles. “Assuming nothing goes sideways.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Sicilians are dramatic,” he added, “but they’re not suicidal.”
“Then let me come with you.”
I stepped forward, closing the distance just enough to make it clear I wasn’t asking.
“We’ll be back before he even notices I’m gone.”
That got his attention.
Renzo studied me like he was searching for something he could use later.
He found none.
Finally, he snorted.
“Fine.”
The word came out like a concession.
He jerked his chin toward the hallway.
“Go get dressed,” he ordered. “Something you can actually move in.”
A pause.
“No tight skirts. No heels.”
His gaze flicked briefly over me. “You need to be able to run.”
Another pause. “Or drop and roll.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Or climb a fucking wall if it comes to that.”
“If things go south, I’m not carrying you out.”
I huffed a soft laugh. “Bold of you to assume you could carry me at all.”
I started for the door—
“Hey.”
