Page 82 of Lust and Honor

Carlo must read it on my face, because he smirks. “Word is you’re off the market. No more jumping every whore you see.”

“What can I say, man? My cock only wants her.”

“You’re falling for her.”

I scoff, shooting him a mocking look. “You’ve known me since we were eight, and now, at thirty-five, you think I’ve got that kind of streak in me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “When the right woman comes along, that possessive streak shows itself.”

“I won’t deny Ava’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. Maybe my dick’s addicted to her body, but falling for someone? That’s not my brand.”

“Men like us need to trust what our cocks tell us.”

I smirk, but he keeps going, his tone dead serious. “Just don’t make the same mistake I did with Emily. That damn day in the library still haunts me.”

I know exactly what day he’s talking about, the day he almost raped Emily. Both of them brushed with death that week. But in the end, it was Carlo who gave in to his feelings. From that moment on, he and Emily have lived like one soul in two bodies.

A low rumble from the sky cuts through our conversation, and a single raindrop splashes on Carlo’s face. He wipes it off and reloads his pistol. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the message, then glance at the man walking toward us, wearing a perfectly pressed suit and holding an umbrella.

“Roberto’s here.”

Carlo slides the clip into his gun and turns toward Roberto, who’s now reached us.

Roberto calmly shakes both our hands. “Mr. Bruni. Mr. Moretti.”

Carlo gestures toward the table full of firearms with the hand still holding his gun. “Pick your weapon.”

Roberto’s brow arches, and he gives Carlo a questioning look.

“I heard you’re a skilled marksman,” Carlo says.

Roberto smiles and bows his head slightly in respect. “I’m sure your skills surpass mine.”

I grab my revolver, smirking. “That’s obvious. But let’s see it with our own eyes.”

Carlo smirks, locking eyes with Roberto long enough to make it clear, this isn’t an invitation. It’s an order.

Roberto meets both our stares, then slowly closes his umbrella and sets it aside. He walks to the table and picks up a sleek revolver with a golden grip, checking the rounds inside.

Carlo steps back, leaving the range to me and Roberto. I signal the guard, and the moving targets start sliding into motion.

“We should probably wear ear protection,” Roberto says.

I scoff before firing. “We’re not into that fancy crap.”

I unload on the moving target, and Roberto does the same. My target’s face is obliterated, while his bullets hit critical points on the body.

Reloading my gun, I say, “I hear your election campaign’s running smoothly. Just one step away from your first political office.”

He reloads his clip with calm precision. “That’s true. My father’s experience in politics has been a big help.”

I snap the clip into place and ignore the raindrops splashing on my face. “What’s helping you isn’t your father’s experience, it’s his connections.”

He loads his clip and meets my gaze, rain soaking into his hair. “I won’t deny it. Politics is a game of give and take. You offer something, you get support in return.”

“You do realize those same friends, if they turn on you, could ruin your entire life?”

He steps closer, calm as ever. “I value my allies deeply. If you’ve got something to say, say it straight.”