Page 82 of No Darker Temptation

Diego was right. Son of a bitch didn’t see it coming. And even if I can’t prove it, I’ve already poisoned everyone at this table against him and planted a seed they won’t soon forget.

Because if there’s one crime the men at this table won’t forgive, it’s the killing of one of their own.

Beto is the first to speak, springing out of his seat as he does. “If you can launch an investigation into his family, then I’m doing the same! I will have justice for my father.”

“Your father’s already dead,” I tell him. “Meanwhile, I’m still living. Had Sandro succeeded in killing me, he wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.”

I step around my seat and make my way down the length of the table, stopping briefly where Beto is standing, chest rising and falling rapidly with his labored breaths. My voice drops to a volume only he can hear.

“Besides…the other men at this table sanctioned his murder. We put it to a vote.” I move his chair with my foot and he lands in his seat with a thump. “Keep that in mind the next time I tell you business is business.”

Sandro says, “I had nothing to do with what happened last summer.”

“And if he did, you can’t prove it,” Regina adds hastily.

We lock eyes. For a moment, I’m tempted to blow her cover in front of everyone. Not too long ago she was begging me for help and went as far as to send the message through Dahlia. Now she’s standing beside Sandro like a loyal and unshakeable lieutenant. I’d give anything to bring Sandro’s world crashing down on his head, watch it fall to pieces around him. But there’s a flash of panic in Regina’s expression that only I know her well enough to recognize. I look to Sandro but his fear is elsewhere. I can’t seem to figure either of them out.

“Really?” I continue my walk across the room, hands casually tucked into my pockets. Doing so is the only way to resist reaching for the nearest sharp object and flinging it at him. “So if the other eleven families came down on your operation, not a single one of them would crack? No one would tell the truth?”

Regina interrupts before Sandro can respond. “They’ll tell you the truth. We had nothing to do with it.”

I can’t resist the urge to laugh in her face.

Her expression sours. “If you’re concerned about your safety, why not look to all your foreign alliances? We can’t be the only ones you pissed off when you pulled out of legitimization last year. Maybe the Balkans or the Russians or the Irish,” she rattles them off one by one. “All felt entitled to a promise you turned your back on.”

“Well, I can tell you for certain it wasn’t the Irish. O’Neil was the one who told me Sandro was in bed with Walsh and Collins. Or,” I stop in front of her, toe to toe, “was that a secret the rest of us weren’t supposed to know?”

Don Rubin rises from his seat. “Last year we made it very clear that we were supporting the O’Neils’s position in the city! And we wouldn’t be negotiating with any other Irish clans trying to disrupt that peace.”

Regina steps forward but Sandro grabs his sister’s wrist, holding her in place. He looks up at me as he lounges in his seat, one hand on his chin, expression contemplative. Finally, a slow rumble of laughter leaves him and he stands, pushing Regina behind him.

“Walsh and Collins. You mean the same families that tried to kill you last summer?” he says. “Why would I have any business dealings with them? When their narcotics business is my competition and I’ve always been opposed to foreign powers in the city?”

“Sandro, don’t⁠—”

He lifts a hand silencing his sister. “What are you really upset about, Narvaez? Because I suspect it’s something else.”

“Sandro!” she says.

He doesn’t listen.

Instead, he steps close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. “Or does it have to do with that little redheaded girlfriend of yours?”

If not for the fact that Diego relieved me of my gun before we entered this meeting, I think I’d have put a bullet through him.

“She’s very beautiful,” he goes on, salivating as he watches the cracks form in my composure. “And my God, what a body on that one. In fact, I had the pleasure of sampling as much when she let me put my hands⁠—”

I grab him by the front of his suit jacket and send him flying across the room at a speed that sends him blurring out of existence. His chair gets knocked over and before he’s able to regain his footing, I have him pinned against the wall by the lapels. Sandro laughs.

He laughs.

Because he knows what a dire mistake I’ve just made—letting the other families know I have a weakness they can exploit. A woman they haven’t yet met, hasn’t been presented, hasn’t been given a formal title or a place in my life, which means she’s fair game to anyone.

Diego’s hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me away. He acts as a barrier between me and Sandro, almost protecting him, but we both know it’s to keep me from cracking his skull in half.

For the first time, Don Miguel Lopez speaks. “Is this true?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.