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A similar smile touched Emilia’s lips, and I glanced between the two women who seemed to be finding some common ground, an understanding of sorts. And that was fucking concerning.
Una turned her attention to me. “Give me a name, Gio.”
My gaze met Emilia’s, and she didn’t flinch as I said, “Sergio Donato.” Words held power, and names even more so. But a name spoken to the Kiss of Death…well, I might as well have etched it on the reaper’s list. Death would come for him, and there was no escape. No outrunning it or hiding.
Una’s lips twitched, and I fully expected her to deny me. Such was her way. Balance and her bullshit code among killers. Fuck knows. But if Sasha could take out Patrick O’Hara, then she could sure as shit take out Sergio. I expected her to ask for an exorbitant amount of money for her troubles. Not that I wouldn’t pay it at this point.
Instead, she simply nodded. “Okay. Sergio Donato will be dead within the week, but it’s her hit,” she jerked her head toward Emilia. “Not yours.”
“I…” Emilia stammered. “What?”
“Oh, I don’t like to get involved in Nero’s games.” She winked—fucking winked—at Emilia before striding toward the door.
“Tommy got shot thanks to Donato, Una. This is hardly Nero’s game,” I snapped.
She paused, and the look she shot over her shoulder at me could have frozen hell over. “Oh, I know. Why do you think I’m taking the job?” She opened the door. “Two million in my account by tonight, Gio.” Then she walked out. Of course. She couldn’t do it out of the kindness of her heart, especially when she had no kindness and no heart.
“Who is she?” Emilia asked after a few moments of silence.
“That is Nero’s wife, Una Verdi. Also known as the Kiss Of Death, one of the most effective assassins in the world.”
Emilia’s brows pulled together before she looked at the closed door as though she could see the woman still standing there. “She looks so…”
“Yeah, I know. Sergio will be dead within the week, piccola. I promise.”
Did I want to kill him myself? Yes, but I needed him stopped more. By any means. I wanted Emilia safe and my business back on track. Money and safety came before ego and vengeance.
“Good.” She grabbed the door handle.
“Emilia.” I grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry.” I’d said it already, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Please, just—”
She yanked free of my grip like I'd burned her. “Get rid of Adamo.” Then she slipped from the room.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to.
I’d shown her my worst self, and she hated me for it. Hated this world, this life.
I was aware of all the reasons why I should let Emilia Donato go, emotionally if not physically. But I couldn’t. They said love was selfless, but not for men like me. No, men like me became consumed with that which they had never had. Suddenly, money and power seemed like nothing without her.
Rubbing my temples, I tried to soothe the headache brewing there. Then I pushed Emilia from my mind and opened my email. One of my men had sent me a blank email with a file attachment. I opened up the grainy images that had been taken in Chicago, featuring one man in particular—Luca Donato.
He was running The Outfit in Sergio’s stead, keeping it stable, and that was a problem.
He was a problem. One I was going to have to deal with.
11
EMILIA
I walked the perimeter of the grounds, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Leaves skittered across the lawns, catching on the cool breeze. Fall had well and truly set in, and I could almost feel the icy breath of winter on the back of my neck.
It was cold out here, but I needed the air, the space. Glancing toward the house, my gaze was drawn to the ground floor window where the silhouette of a figure lingered. I couldn’t make out the details, but I knew it was Gio. Watching me. As if Adamo, my own personal stalker, weren’t enough.
Leaves crunched behind me, and I turned, fully expecting to find the young guard traipsing after me, ready to cuss him out. Instead, I found Renzo approaching. His brows were pulled together, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a hooded sweatshirt.
“You shouldn’t be walking alone, Emilia.”
I rolled my eyes, having had this very conversation with Gio when he saw me out here yesterday. He’d demanded I not leave the house at all. Ridiculous. I was surprised he hadn’t already come out and dragged me inside. Though if the dark SUVs parked in the driveway were any indication, he had guests to attend to.
“Why am I surrounded by overbearing men?”
