“Aren’t you? Just making sure your future wife isn’t all crazy because she nearly got shot.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not even a little bit. I’m here because I want to make sure you’re alright.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Does he actually care? His posture is leaning toward me, almost possessively, and he’s looking at me like he’s dead serious. But guys like Luca don’t do anything without an ulterior motive.
He saved me last week because he knew I was important to his family’s plans. And he’s here now because he wants to make sure he’s not marrying a crazy girl.
That’s all this is. He doesn’t actually care. None of them ever do.
“I’m fine, okay? Totally, completely fine. I’m going to get back to work now.”
“If that’s what you want.” He steps away and starts to turn.
Then I open my dumb, fat mouth without thinking. “And what happened in your office?” I feel my cheeks start burning as he slowly looks back at me. “That’s never,everhappening again. Don’t get your hopes up. This marriage is going to be all business.”
He nods slowly, staring at me hard, and licks his lips. Fuck, he’s so sexy it drives me absolutely insane. “All business,” he repeats. “That’s fine with me.”
“Good. Great. Wonderful.” I point at the door. “See you at the wedding.”
He looks at me a moment longer like he’s trying to decide what to say next, but only shakes his head and walks off.
Once he’s gone, it’s like I can breathe again. I deflate and lean against my car, groaning to myself, much too aware of the other men in the garage though none are looking at me.
This should be easy. He’s just some guy, and it’s not like I’m going to stick around with him for long. It’s one year of making sure he keeps his hands to himself, and then Elisa and I are out of here. No more mafia politics. No more danger. No more men trying to kill us.
Just safety. A normal life. Happiness. Real love.
I turn back to the car, hating myself for being so damn attracted to that man, but vowing that I won’t be so weak around him ever again.
Chapter 7
Luca
“Bug says his car’s parked outside of a bar called Iron Horse Saloon.” Davide’s voice comes through the tiny earpiece, tinged by static. “It’s a couple blocks north of your position.”
“You hear that, Stefano?” I ask, calling into the radio as I slowly move my truck into position. “You sure you can identify the guy?”
“Show him to me and I’ll make him out,” Stefano rumbles back.
“How are we doing this, chief?” Leo asks.
I consider for a moment. “Davide keeps an eye out from his command post back in the depot. Stefano and I go inside. He IDs the guy. You and Enzo wait out by his car. When he leaves, we corner him and ask some hard questions. Should be simple.”
“It’s never simple,” Enzo murmurs.
“Sounds like a great plan, chief.” Leo’s way too chipper, but I appreciate his enthusiasm. “I’m two minutes away.”
“Quiet on the line from here on out,” I order, and the others call back with an affirmative, and then the channel goes dead.
Iron Horse Saloon is a shitty little dive out in West Philly. The building’s square and gray with a black door and ancient signage out front for beers that probably aren’t even made anymore. I spot the car Leo bugged earlier—a simple gray Nissan Altima—and pull my truck over half a block further down from it.
The rest of my crew shows up over the next few minutes. Young Leo is first, ever eager to prove himself. He’s another Marino cousin, but only twenty-two. The guy’s ambitious, but he takes too many risks. That’s why he’s not going in with me.
Next comes Stefano. He appears outside my window like a phantom. For such a big, monstrous man, he sure can move quietly. He’s my main enforcer and one vicious motherfucker. His nose is hooked like it’s been broken before, and his dark eyes are piercing and intense.
I push open the truck door and climb out.
“Where’s Enzo?” He’s my second-in-command and my most trusted lieutenant.
