Camille is mere feet from me. Lucia is there too.
The reminder alone keeps me from exploding.
I refuse to let scum like Edoardo Cordoza undo all the work I’ve done these past six months to prove I’m not the monster my daughter’s mother told her I am.
“You have five seconds to remove that from your phone,” I say slowly, eyes locked on the screen, “or I’ll ensure that your respect for women grows tenfold with one bullet.”
He tests the authenticity of my threat with a mocking smirk. “Andhow the fuck will you achieve that without breaking the rules? You can’t kill me, Dante. There are rules not even you can ignore.”
“I didn’t mention anything about killing you.Yet.” My last word is for me, but he hears it. “But I don’t need to kill you to make your life miserable.”
I move close enough that he finally loses his smile before I grab his belt buckle, yank him forward, and then stab the barrel of my gun into his groin. “There’s barely anything there as it is, so I doubt there’ll beanythingleft once I’m done with you.”
He’s scared now. Fucking petrified.
Good.
“Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you get to fuck with her life. It doesn’t give you permission to collect pieces of her soul like souvenirs.” He whimpers when I dig my gun in far enough for his cock to wilt—like it can get any smaller. “And it sure as fuck doesn’t give you permission to taunt her into thinking she needs scum like you in her life to get by.”
His confidence is smashed to smithereens, but he continues to push.
It’s understandable when he exposes the hand he’s holding.
It’s a royal fucking flush.
“You’re right. But considering the world we live in, and that she’s my wife, I’m sitting fairly pretty right now. Wouldn’t you say, Dante?”
I don’t respond. I can’t.
His claim changes everything.
We’ve governed by the rules that brought the Cosa Nostra back from its deathbed after internal conflicts almost wiped out every family from the map in 1981. Those rules explicitly state I can’t touch another sanctioned man’s wife. Rival or not.
I glance toward the diner window where my daughter’s silhouette and the woman who makes her life simpler just by existing are reflected. Then I look back at Edoardo.
I hear Giovanni’s growl from here when I say three words that could destroy the Caruso dynasty. “Name your price.”
