Adriana slips the gun from Vasilisa’s fingers.
Jealousy.
Over a man like Santo Amato.
Scythe.
A brutal killer with a reputation sharp enough to cut from across a room.
She must be as deranged as he is.
But I’m the one who’s fucked, because Idoknow her husband.
And he knows me.
One late meeting Gabriel had with the Amatos, and I was hidden behind a curtain, listening.
Santo saw me. I know he did. But he never said a word.
HeknowsI was in Gabriel’s house. And now he’s alone with Maksim.
I’m fucked.
I cross my arms. “I’ve seen him around.”
“No one justseesmy husband around,” Vasilisa bites. “Either you know him or you don’t.”
She steps fully into my space now.
“Or are you a whore from Opulent.”
Opulent.
The Amatos’ strip club. She thinks I’m a stripper?
The thought is almost funny.
Almost.
“Everyone knows your husband,” I say. “Santo Amato. Underboss of Cosa Nostra. A killer.Scythe.”
I let that sit there a second before I add,
“And if he’s sleeping with the staff, I feel bad for you.”
Vasilisa’s eyes frost over in a way that reminds me so much of Maksim it almost makes my stomach turn.
“Oh, and Maksim’s any better?” Her voice climbs. “Pakhan of the Bratva.Psychopath.Juggernaut—he’s not looking for love, sweetheart. He’s looking for a hole to fuck.”
That lands.
Hard.
Because she’s probably right.
Adriana claps her hands once, sharp enough to cut through the room, tells blondie to go grab a snack, then orders me to sit.
I track her automatically.
