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Lorenzo leaned down, his breath caressing the exposed skin on my neck as he whispered, “I’m sure Dante was as much an accident as Pete was.” He took a step back and grinned down at me.
That was it. I was done. I shoved past Lorenzo, bumping into other partygoers. Weaving through the crowd, I muttered apologies until I reached the French doors. Cool air slapped me in the face as I stumbled toward the bathrooms.
“Sasha!”
I picked up my pace, sprinting away from the voices calling out to me and toward the exit.
“Sasha! Stop!”
Air whooshed out of me, my breaths coming out in pants, but I didn’t stop until a large hand grabbed my bicep and spun me around. Marco braced me against his chest, holding me tighter when I tried to push away. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”
I shook my head, the fabric of Marco’s jacket itchy against my damp face.
“Frankie, round up the guys and meet us in the penthouse. Sasha, come on.” Marco gently turned me from his body and led me to the elevator.
I kept one hand on my chest, my heart thundering under my palm, while I wiped under my eyes with the other. A handkerchief materialized in front of my face, and I glanced up at Marco, who was watching me with concern.
“Th-thanks.”
“Anytime, Red.” He wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.
The elevator opened to a modern suite that I’m sure would’ve wowed me if I wasn’t a hot fucking mess. I plopped down on a couch, fisting Marco’s soaked hanky.
Not five minutes later, the elevator door opened, and the gang of huge mobsters spilled out. Frankie and Tommy made a beeline to me and flanked the couch. Mickey fell into the chair across from me, eyes bloodshot, knees bouncing as his gaze darted from man to man. Aldo, Joey, and Lorenzo stayed near the elevator with three guys I’d only ever seen in passing.
“Sasha, what happened?”
Marco’s laser focus stayed on Lorenzo, who rubbed his chin, the rasp of his hand against his five o’clock shadow audible in the painfully quiet room.
I opened my mouth, but Lorenzo cut me off. “It was me.”
Aldo and Joey moved in front of the elevator, stopping anyone from leaving. Frankie and Tommy stepped in front of me, blocking me from Lorenzo’s view.
“Explain,” Marco barked.
“We took a trip down memory lane, and Sasha got upset.” His voice oozed with douchebag.
“What are you talking about?” Marco said, his voice not giving away that he knew the truth. This was a test, and I knew Lorenzo was going to fail.
“Come on, Marco. Luca’s been locked up for weeks. You can’t tell me you haven’t had a taste. She moves on qui—”
Marco took three long steps and punched Lorenzo so hard that he fell to the ground. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.” The sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the room, and I peered around Tommy’s thick frame.
In the middle of the swankiest hotel room I’d ever been in, Lorenzo was on the ground, nose gushing blood, with Marco pressing the tip of the silencer between his eyes.
Lorenzo looked my way, and Marco backhanded with the gun. “You don’t look at her. Now tell me why the fuck Sasha was crying.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up with every passing second Lorenzo stayed silent. Finally, when I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest, Lorenzo said, “I was an asshole.” His voice came out nasally, proof Marco had fucked him up.
“And what do we say when we’re an asshole?” Marco shoved Lorenzo’s head with the gun.
“Sorry.”
Marco squatted down and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you? What you did was bad enough, but cornering Sasha and upsetting her? I should shoot you between the eyes, but Luca will want to handle you when he gets out. If I were you, I’d go into hiding. You’re a dead man.” He stood up, his gun still trained on Lorenzo. “Get the fuck out of here, and don’t come back to St. Louis.”
Lorenzo pushed off the floor, his movements slow. Once he was at full height, he stared Marco down. “You sure you want to do this?”
Marco laughed. “Oh yeah. This is one thing that I’m happy to do.”
