Antonio tucks one Glock into the back of his trousers. “I like the sound of that. But you’re going to need more than firepower, Raphael. These Russians… they play dirty.”
I let a slow grin creep across my face, the kind that always makes men in the room shift uneasily. “Good. So do I.”
There’s a beat of silence, thick and heavy. Leaning back, I let the Glock rest on my thigh, and study them both. “How do we warn our families?”
Antonio’s eyes glint. “Sophia, could you go out and ask Papa and Mr. Costa to come inside?”
“I don’t want her getting hurt.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“We need to let them know. Dressed like that,” he looks her up and down, “both men will come inside.”
“I don’t like it,” I say.
Antonio shakes his head. “Sophia, what do you say?”
She takes a slow breath and shoulders the weight of it. “Antonio is right.” She sets the shotgun down. “You aren’t head of this family yet. I don’t take orders from you. But if something were to happen to either man, war would ensue.”
Maria clears her throat. “I’ll go with her. We can just take the pistols. No one will even realize we have them.”
“Perfect,” I say, my sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass, and I glance at Antonio. “Need I remind you this deal between our families only works if I marry Sophia? If she gets herself killed, we’re back to the way we… were.”
Sophia swallows hard, the tremor in her jaw betraying her fear, but she nods. “I… I can do it.”
“Good,” I say, my tone flat, like a blade. “Because the next time someone dies, I want it to be them, not us.”
Antonio leans back, a sly grin creeping over his face. “And I thought today would be boring.”
“No such thing as boring when the Russians are in town. Let’s make sure they remember why we run this city.” My fingers tighten around the Glock, the steel cold against my palm, and the thought of losing her—my obsession—sends a chill straight through me.
Sophia and Maria move toward the door, careful but determined. I watch every step, every twitch of muscle, every flinch. My eyes flick to Antonio, who’s watching them leave.
“Act natural.” My voice stops Sophia and she looks at me. “You’re a spitfire. Make a scene. Demand that both men come inside and if it looks like they won’t raise your voice. They won’t want to be embarrassed in front of their men and the other guests.”
Sophia gives me the briefest of smiles. “I can do that.”
I point at Maria. “And if you can, get my brother Gabriel to come inside with you. Say, ‘chalice’. If he doesn’t come tell him, ‘Raphael has sipped from the poison chalice.’”
“Code word?” asks Antonio.
“Yes, something we’ve done since he was young. A way to let me know if he’s in trouble.”
“Got it,” replies Maria.
Reaching out, I put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Be careful, both of you.”
Chapter Eight
Sophia
“Weirdest Halloween ever,” Maria says as we weave through the crowd at the front of my home.
“Yep,” I reply. “And I thought marrying Raphael was the strangest thing that was going to happen tonight.”
Maria nudges me. “Gabriel’s over there, talking to Vincent.”
I glance across the yard and spot them. “Let’s divide and conquer.”
“Okay, but don’t get yourself killed,” she warns, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze.
