Page 67 of Alessio

“They think what?” Corrado hissed.

Alessio’s hand drifted behind him, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Corrado’s shirt like he assumed holding onto the man would keep him calm. It helped; he wouldn’t lie about that. So much so that Corrado moved closer to Alessio. Close enough to share the warmth of Alessio’s sculpted back molding against his silk-covered chest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Corrado asked, his tone calmer.

Not by much though.

“I need people to rely on what I tell them,” Andino said, sounding as though he was just about done with this conversation. “And I don’t care if you, or she, or anyone else, fucking likes it. As long as I get what I want that’s what matters.”

“They’re teenagers. You’re traumatizing them, likely. Their father died a while back, then their mother, and now they think their sister is—”

“Is there something I can do for you, or did you keep calling me so you could bitch about shit that won’t change soon, Corrado?”

His jaw ached. That’s how hard he was clenching his fucking teeth. It was likely the next time he had a face-to-face moment with Andino, well, it would not end well. Corrado would guarantee it wouldn’t end badly for him, though.

“Easy,” Alessio murmured as though he was reading Corrado’s mind. It was far more probable he was feeling Corrado’s body cues that spoke of his anger, and he was reacting to that. “Try to get something you want from him. Something to give her, Corrado. It’s the best you can do. We can handle his stupid ass another day.”

Right, right.

When had Alessio become the voice of reason?

It didn’t matter.

“Just …” Corrado cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose to settle the fury swimming in his bloodstream. Some people just had that effect on others. Like instant anger right to the fucking vein. Andino was one of those. “How much longer before she might come home?”

Although that thought alone was enough to make Corrado want to rage all over again, but for different reasons. Ginevra had a life away from here … people to take care of. And God knew he would never deny her those things, even if he had fallen entirely in love with the woman amidst this mess with him, the favor to Andino, and Alessio.

Still, he loved her.

At some point, she would go back.

Corrado didn’t like it, but that didn’t make it any less true. He figured, when the time came, then they would all handle it together. Him, Les, and her. However they wanted to work that out, then they would.

“When?” he asked again, firmer the second time when Andino said nothing.

“I’m not sure.”

“Jesus Christ. And they want you to be the next boss of that organization there?”

“Out of line,” Andino murmured, “and now you’re pissing me off.”

Oh, really?

That was nice.

So fucking nice.

And Corrado didn’t give a shit.

“You’ve been pissing me off since—”

Alessio pivoted and snatched the phone right out of Corrado’s hand. He put the device to his ear at the same time his palm came to rest flat against Corrado’s chest, a silent order for him to stay. He wasn’t even pressing down to keep him from moving, and Corrado’s blazing gaze didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Andino,” Alessio said into the phone, never looking away from Corrado’s severe expression as he did so, “it’s Alessio—yeah, you remember, right? Say hello to Pink for me, I’m sure he needs the reminder, too.”

A beat of silence passed.

Alessio grinned. “And your point is? Because here’s our fucking point—we need a timeline, something to give this woman here who did everything you asked of her even when you gave her fuck all in return. She followed your rules. She did what you wanted. Not once has she stepped out of line, and every single day, she continues to do these things hoping that back there, the people she loves—who no worries, we know you don’t give a shit about—are still okay. And so, if you can’t tell me things I need to know here, I will come find it.”