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She thought the worst thing about Elio Mancini was a fiancée he never mentioned.

The pain in my chest hasn't moved. It sits there, low and heavy.

I've been shot twice. Once in Palermo. Once outside Naples.

Both hurt less than this.

I don't have a name for it.

Jealousy isn't enough.

This is knowing I've wanted Amanda since she was twenty years old.

For five years I kept filing her away under Vittoria's friend. Too young. Off limits.

Then she walked into a café in Milan and every excuse I'd been hiding behind stopped working.

I wanted her then.

I want her now.

I want her with the selfishness of a man who has spent most of his life worrying about everyone else's survival and almost none of it worrying about his own.

And I told her not to touch me.

I turn on the tap and splash cold water over my face. It doesn't help.

I dry off, unlock the door, and step back into the apartment.

She's standing right there.

Looking at me.

And the look on her face hits me in places I don't know how to defend.

Because I never thought I'd need to.

Amanda

"Who are you going to kill?"

He doesn't answer right away. His eyes find mine and stay there. "Elio Mancini." He says it like the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"Why?"

Valentino takes a step closer.

"It's confirmed," he says. "Elio was working with Aldo Basile."

The words hang between us.

"No." I shake my head. Too fast. Too hard. "That's not possible."

"One month." Before I can respond, he cuts in. "He started working with Aldo's operation thirty days before Vittoria assigned him to you."

The floor shifts. I put a hand against the wall to brace myself. "This isn't happening." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "This is actually not happening. Elio worked for the Sartoris. He was Vittoria's bodyguard. He's been in her house. He's driven her to places. He's been trusted with her life and you're telling me⁠—"

"I'm telling you what happened."