Maybe I shouldn’t have.
Maybe getting attached inside a house full of Moretti’s and guards and secrets is the most foolish thing I could possibly do.
But when Sabrina smiles at me with peanut butter on her cheek and hope in her eyes, I don’t feel foolish.
I feel like I have two daughters sitting at the table.
One mine by birth.
One mine because my heart apparently doesn’t know how to mind its own business.
“Where’s Maverick?” I ask as the girls talk excitedly about what they plan to make in art class.
“He had to step out for a bit,” Stefano answers. “He likely won’t be back until this evening.”
“He could’ve at least said goodbye,” I mutter.
Stefano’s eyes soften.
I hate that.
It makes the ugly feeling inside my chest grow fangs.
“I know something big is happening,” I continue, keeping my voice low so the girls don’t hear me. “And I know it’s probably not my place to ask questions, but surely he knows I’m freaking out a little, right?”
“Mia.”
“He hasn’t said more than five words to me in three days.” My throat tightens. “Did I do something?”
The girls are too busy arguing over whether glitter glue counts as paint to notice the way my voice cracks.
Stefano does.
Sighing, he nods toward the hall.
“Come with me for a second.”
I follow him out of the kitchen and into the corridor.
The moment we’re alone, he turns to face me.
“You didn’t do anything, Mia.”
I wrap my arms around myself. “Then why does it feel like I did? He won’t even look at me.”
“Because my brother is very good at making bad decisions when he believes he’s protecting someone.”
From what? I don’t ask, but I want to.
“One of our people was killed,” Stefano says quietly.
The air leaves my lungs.
“What?”
“One of our men in Ohio. Loyal man. Good man.” His jaw tightens. “On top of that, there has been a threat against Maverick.”
My stomach twists.
