“I have a question.” Cristiano paused with a forkful of steak halfway to his mouth. “Is it true your mother was a bit…pazza? A parasite in the criminal world?”
I narrowed my eyes, images of all the ways I could make him suffer flashing through my mind. Or maybe I’d make it simple and just set him on fire.
“My mother was a product of her environment,” I said coldly.
“Cut the shit, Cristiano, or you can leave right now.” Giovanni’s lethal voice cut through the room like a whip.
Cristiano tried to justify himself. “But?—”
Marissa glared at her brother. “Be fucking nice. And so what if her mother wasloca. You’re a pest and you don’t see anybody pointing it out. You know why? Because we have manners.”
Cristiano’s frightening expression turned on his sister. “Come on, though. Don’t tell me you’re okay with Giovanni marrying his uncle’s supposedly dead wife.”
Giovanni opened his mouth, probably to come to my defense, but I raised my palm, my gaze never straying from his youngest brother.
“I didn’t have much of a say in this marriage, nor the one to Santiago,” I said calmly, even though something inside me blazed. If he weren’t Giovanni’s brother, I’d fucking kill himright here and now. He’d be dead before dinner was served. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Stop it, Cristiano,” his sister warned in a hiss.
He ignored her.
“Then why marry Giovanni?” Cristiano’s right eye twitched. “To take back control of the Tijuana Cartel?”
“I have no intention of taking anything. And just so we’re clear, I never had control of the Tijuana Cartel.” The silence that overtook the dining room was awkward to say the least. “And what Giovanni and I do is for us to figure out.Ourbusiness, not yours. Are we clear?”
I felt my husband staring at my profile with pride. I could see his lips curled into a smile as he squeezed my thigh under the table with gentle support.
I released the breath I’d been holding since my mother was mentioned and all eyes turned my way. I never thought someone’s support would mean so much.
“Why play dead?” Mateo, who used to be the head of the Italian Boston mob, asked, a mild curiosity lacing his voice.
Giovanni pinned him down with a glare, but his cousin’s attention stayed firmly on me.
“It was safer to stay dead,” I stated calmly. “Due to the nature of the support I’d given to Perez Cortes, protecting my daughter…” My voice cracked, but I continued after swallowing hard. “Protecting myadoptivedaughter was all that mattered to me. Besides, it was a pretty good revenge. I was everywhere, but no one could pin me down.”
I wouldn’t tell them that after two decades of being a prisoner, it felt intoxicating to be free, and I had no intention of ever being dragged back. I could finally write my own story.
Joke was on me though, because here I was.Although, it felt different this time. It felt different with Giovanni.
“I wonder if you rehearsed all these answers,” Cristiano asked as he resumed eating.
“Cristiano,” Giovanni warned.
“It’s suspicious, brother. Why can’t you see it?” He huffed, and I swore I heard him say, “You can do so much better thanher,” under his breath.
“Silence,” Giovanni growled, and the entire room went still. Well, everyone except Mateo, who continued eating and teasing his children as though it were just another Monday.
“I’m assuming you visited your mother, Cristiano.” Mateo’s attention fell on his cousin.
“That has nothing to?—”
“Answer my question,” he cut him off.
“Yes,” he gritted.
“What. Did. She. Say?”Mateo demanded to know.
“Probably something psychotic,” Romeo said, laughing under his breath but stopping when Mateo’s and Giovanni’s attention shifted to him.
