Nico and Paulo sense the shift in my mood and exchange a glance.
Slowly, I rise from my chair. Tommaso is older than me. He was killing men before I was born. But when I step around the desk and approach him, he takes an involuntary step back.
“My father,” I say with quiet menace, “was a violent drunk who murdered women and beat children and nearly started wars with the Vicis and the Dervishis. It’s thanks to my sister that Vincenzo Vici hasn’t put a bullet in your skull or Dashamir Dervishi hasn’t chainsawed off your limbs. You, Pietro, and his other capos seem to have encouraged his worst instincts.”
Tommaso’s face darkens. “I earned Don Agnello’s trust—”
“You haven’t earned mine.” I hold his gaze until he looks away. “You’re far from earning it, Tommaso. Now get out. All of you.”
They file out in silence. Nico catches my eye as he goes, a flicker of respect in his expression. Paulo just looks amused.
Tommaso is the last to leave, his back stiff with wounded pride.
The door closes, and I’m alone with the monitor.
I pull it closer, settling back into my chair, letting out a breath as I catch sight of her again. There she is. Still there. Still safe.
I watch the tension in her shoulders, the way she holds herself. She’s unhappy. I can see it even through the camera, even without sound. There’s something weighing on her.
Me, probably.
I pass my hand over my face. The kindest thing I could do is leave her alone.
But I’ve never been kind, and now that I’ve seen her again, I can’t stay away.
The spa door opens on the feed, and a woman walks in. Petite, dark-haired, expensive clothes.
I know her. Ariana Barone, the woman Tommaso wanted me to marry.
I lean closer to the screen, frowning. What is she doing at my hotel?
I watch as Ariana settles into a manicure chair. One of the staff begins working on her nails. A moment later, the spa manager appears at Mina’s side, speaks to her briefly, and Mina crosses the salon to give Ariana a shoulder massage.
My jaw tightens.
I don’t want Mina touching Ariana Barone. I don’t want Mina anywhere near her. Ariana belongs to a world that has alwayslooked down on women like Mina, and I will not have her treated that way.
On the screen, the manicurist is talking animatedly. Ariana responds, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. The woman’s expression shifts to excitement. She gestures at something.
Ariana’s hand.
I lean closer to the monitor, squinting at the grainy image. There’s something on Ariana’s finger. Something that catches the light.
An engagement ring.
The manicurist is gushing over the ring, clearly asking questions. Ariana says something in response, and—
Mina freezes.
Her hands stop moving on Ariana’s shoulders. Her whole body goes rigid.
I’m leaning over the desk, staring at the monitor. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
The manicurist is still talking, oblivious, but Mina isn’t moving. She’s just standing there, frozen, her face pale even in the low-quality footage. What did Ariana say? What could she possibly have said to make Mina react like that?
On the screen, Mina’s hands tighten on Ariana’s shoulders. Even from this angle, I can see the tension in her grip, the white of her knuckles. She’s staring at the ring.
Ariana wrenches herself free, twisting in the chair to face Mina. Even without sound, I can see her anger, her confusion. The whole salon has gone still, everyone staring.
