Clayton scoffs. “You really think the Brunos are going to let a Bellanti wife within a mile of Orloff’s fiancée? Not a chance. She’ll be shot on sight.”
“I doubt that. As far as Bruno knows, Candi is still his mole. And I’m sure Juliana will want to see her best friend. If anything, Candi is more at risk of being interrogated or detained. They’re not going to kill a valuable operative. The fact that she almost died in the fire herself only cements her loyalty to them. Right now, they have no reason to be suspicious of her.”
Dante frowns. “Do you honestly think Candi is going towillinglyput herself in harm’s way just so you can kidnap her friend?”
“She won’t be in harm’s way,” I tell him. “I’ll throw an entire security team at her if I have to, but I think we can be more subtle. All she has to do is invite Juliana out for lunch.”
“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Marco scoffs.
I shoot him a death glare. He’ll find out exactly how easy this will be when Juliana Guerra is locked up on our property.
Because the one thing I know for certain is that my wife wants what’s best for her friend. And that’s a weakness I can use against her. All I have to do is convince Candi to lure Juliana out to a public place where they can talk, somewhere far from the eyes of Bruno and the Bratva guards, thus negating any risks to my wife and child. I’ll have the perfect opportunity to pounce.
“You’re delusional.” Marco shakes his head. “Candi is not going to help you do this.”
“Oh no?” Holding my brother’s gaze, I take out my phone. “Dante, what’s your wife doing right now?”
“Probably changing a diaper. Why?”
“Because she’s going to help me.”
I call Frankie. She answers on the second ring. “Armani? Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” I tell her. “I just need your help with something.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I need to seduce my wife.”
16
CANDI
I’m eatinga light breakfast of fruit and toast, mindlessly scrolling through #nurseryinspo on Insta, when I hear the approach of Armani’s familiarly assertive footsteps out in the hallway.
“There you are. I was thinking we could go look at paint swatches for the baby’s room after I get done giving Mr. Sprinkles a bath,” he says.
My head snaps up and the strawberry I’m holding drops out of my fingers and onto the floor. Armani stands in the doorway in his work attire, watching me intently as he loosens his tie.
“Um, are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m great. Why do you ask?”
I scrutinize his expression, trying to decide if he’s messing with me or not. “Don’t you have work today?”
He shrugs. “I clocked out early. This is more important.”
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him.
“Sink or bathtub?” he asks.
“What?”
“For the cat,” he clarifies.
“Oh, no. God, no. Don’t do that. Mr. Sprinkles doesnotlike water. And besides, cats bathe themselves. Why do you think he’s always licking himself?”
Armani frowns. “So no bath?”
