The don looks at me in exasperation, but I can’t bring myself to care. It’s slowly beginning to dawn on me that I have no alternative options here.
“What’s in Emilia-Romagna?” Leon asks as he gives in and slides into the seat opposite me.
I take a long drink of whiskey before replying. “My mother.”
Leon, funnily enough, sympathizes with this with a horrified grimace. But I wouldn’t touch his mommy issues with a barge pole, either.
“I’ll have Rocco run comms while you’re out there,” he offers instead by means of comfort. “Hopefully, you won’t be out there long.”
I take in his slouched posture and the dark circles under his eyes and find myself grateful that the weight of the war isn’t on my shoulders. “You’ll finish this, boss, no doubt about it.”
He smirks. It’s a tired expression, but it meets his eyes. “Get the princess out of here for me?”
“Yeah,” I say, resigning myself to my fate. “Whatever it takes.”
I go to stand, downing the rest of my glass as I go to leave, only to be stopped by Leon on my way out.
“I trust you’ll keep to your word?”
I pause, turning to give him a confused look.
“You won’t touch her. If the Cartel needs her to remain…virtuous,” he scrunches his nose in distaste. “I need her to come back in one piece.”
“It’s gross, right? It’s not just me. How would they even be able to tell?”
Leon hums his agreement. “But it’s important to them, so it’s important to us. Nothing can happen to her.”
“I know.”
“Dante,” he gives me a pointed look.
A pointed look that I immediately take offense to. “I’m not a fucking animal.”
“I seem to recall that time at theInfernowhen you were distracted by not one but two blondes–”
“All right, stop,” I hiss in frustration. “Look, I promise you I won’t. Even if I wanted to…which, to be absolutely clear, I don’t…my mother wouldn’t allow it.”
Leon gives me a sympathetic look. “She’s not Catholic, is she?”
“Worse,” I swallow. “She wants me married.”
To my surprise, Leon barks out a laugh that is long and low and seemingly desperately needed. By the time he’s recovered, he’s wiping a tear from his eye. “There are worse things, my friend.”
“Easy for you to say. Mia almost shot Alex earlier. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His jovial demeanor immediately evaporates into thin air. “Okay, and you’re out.”
I mentally chastise myself for forgetting the number one rule in this line of work as I make my hasty retreat.
I’ve almost finished packing by the time I gather my courage enough to call.
It would be a stretch to call this hotel room “home”, but I’ve become quite fond of it these last few weeks. It’s strange to see the space bare of my possessions—all of which fit into one neat suitcase now lying on the bed.
There’s no point taking my weapons with me. For one, it’ll be a headache getting through airport security, and I already had to call in three separate favors to secure a private plane. For another, there’s a literal armory in theCastello de Grasso.
I just need to let them know that I’ll be arriving soon to utilize it.
With a sigh, I hit the call button. My leg bounces as I perch on the end of my bed.
