Page 46 of Married to the Enemy

The guards were still watching him, waiting for his response, smirks tugging at their mouths as if they were mentally patting themselves on the back after identifying a nobody. Idiots. All of them.

“Get out,” Vito snarled.

They scrambled, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to obey.

Alone again, Vito frowned at the picture one last time, then set the phone face down on the table.

His daughter wasn’t just disobedient. She was dangerous.

And if the FBI was circling his family, circling him, then the game had just shifted.

But maybe there was a way to play this. Maybe…!

Chapter 32

The coffee machine hissed and sputtered behind the shop’s counter, the scent of freshly ground coffee filling the air. Mia stood with her hands wrapped around the strap of her tote bag, willing her pulse to settle. She just wanted caffeine and ten minutes of quiet before heading home.

The bell above the café door jingled.

She turned casually—and froze.

Her father.

Vito Calvino entered as though he owned the place, his expensive suit a sharp contrast to the relaxed, college-town vibe of the café. He didn’t rush, didn’t even scan the room for threats. He didn’t need to. Wherever he went, menace followed.

Mia’s stomach dropped like a stone. For a split second, she convinced herself he wouldn’t dare. Not here. Not in a place packed with strangers sipping lattes and working on laptops. Surely, he wouldn’t drag her out in front of witnesses.

Would he?

Her father spotted her immediately, his expression coldly pleased. “Mia,” he said, as though greeting her at Sunday brunch instead of stalking her across the city.

Her knees wobbled, but she held her ground.

He didn’t step closer. Not yet. Instead, he pulled out his phone, long fingers sliding easily over the screen. His lips curved into an expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “The man you’re with,” he murmured softly, “is using you, my dear.”

Mia blinked, confused—until he held out the phone.

The image glared up at her.

Her heart thudded. It had been taken this morning—her, in the driveway, and Raffe, his arm around her. The look on his face was intimate and fiercely protective.

Vito’s voice dropped to a silky growl. “He’s FBI.”

The bombshell landed like a grenade. For a moment, all Mia could do was stare. Her breath caught, her palms damp.

Her head spun. An FBI agent? Seriously? He couldn’t be just an ordinary police officer or detective? He was federal?

And then, like puzzle pieces dropping into place, the truth began to settle. His obsessive watchfulness. The new security cameras. The way he’d mentioned last night that someone was watching them. The constant scanning of the street, the protective set of his shoulders.

And his disguise when she’d first met him. Yeah, that homeless look made far more sense with the information that he was an FBI agent.

And he’d been correct. Someone had been watching. She had the proof of it now, burning in pixels on her father’s phone.

Her throat tightened.

Vito let the silence stretch, relishing her shock. “Come home, Mia. Don’t make this worse than it already is. If you come home now, I won’t make a big deal of the fact that you’ve been acting like a slut with the enemy.” His voice turned angry with the last part as his fury reared its ugly head.

The word hit like a slap. But her father underestimated her—he always had.