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“There’s a security breach.” Santo stands at the head of the table, one hand resting on the back of his chair. With the other, he inspects his fingernails, but he’s not fooling me. I’m his little sister, and I can see the tension in the mob boss’s frame. “Someone is feeding information out of the De Rossi compound.”
…Oh, shit.
“Who thefuck?” Nico asks, throwing himself back in his chair, as Diego snarls under his breath. Alongside Nico, his wife rests a soothing hand on his arm. She’s wearing a red Christmas jumper with a snowman on it, her brown hair braided into two bunches, and her expression is worried.
I glance at my brother, waiting for him to accuse the obvious intruder in the room, but his pale eyes skate over Leah like she’s already one of us.
Huh. We missed a lot in that safe house, then.
Interesting. I’ve always wanted more estrogen around here.
“How do you want to handle it?” Raul asks quietly, always the steady presence in the room. Together, he and Santo are like two icebergs, drifting calmly through the frozen wastes. Meanwhile, Nico and Diego are spitting fire.
“We’re going to spill all our secrets.” Santo’s smile is as empty as an ocean trench. Whoever crossed this man has the worst kind of death wish, because he’s my flesh and blood and even I’m shuffling further down the table, leaning closer to Raul. Those empty eyes make the hairs on my neck stand on end.
“Strategically,” Santo goes on. “One secret in the earshot of each person on the grounds. Nothing truly vital, of course… then we’ll see which piece of information gets used against me.”
Yeesh.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying not to imagine the punishment my brother has in store. As the head of his empire, Santo rewards loyalty with protection and wealth—and punishes betrayal without a flicker of mercy. I stay away from those parts of the business, but I’m not an idiot. I know what goes on.
“We’ll find them, boss.” Diego leans forward, firelight flickering over the scar in his cheek where it disappears into his dark beard. “And they’ll wish they were never born.”
“Indeed.” Santo finishes inspecting his nails and smooths a palm down his waistcoat. It’s purple tonight, hugging his torso and bringing out the glacial blue of his eyes. “This is very boring for me.”
I bet. That superhuman brain is happier when it’s scouring the black markets for lost artworks, or reading the stock markets like an old mystic with tea leaves. Not digging up a mole in our own backyard.
“You know what would make you feel better?” Leah pipes up, and we all stiffen in our chairs. Santo has barely any patience at the best of times, but right now, he’s hanging by a silken thread. His soldiers have been targeted, his castle is under siege, and Nico’s strange little woman is talking to him like a buddy? Falasca slings an arm around her shoulders, protective and uneasy.
“What?” the mob boss asks, soft and deadly.
Leah beams. “Wanna play checkers?”
The silence makes my heart stutter. Then—
“Fine.” We all blink, shocked into stillness as Santo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lord knows you won’t stop bothering me about it.”
Only Leah seems unsurprised. She grins at the mob boss like this was inevitable, like she always knew they’d be best buddies, and god, my brother hasn’t played board games since he was ten.
“Baby, maybe we should—” Nico begins.
“Your wife can make her own decisions,” Santo snaps. “Leave us, all of you. Falasca, you can stay, but only if you let her concentrate. I want a decent challenge.”
Nico sinks back in his chair, equal parts relieved and confused.
Out in the hallway, Diego strides away, muttering under his breath. Raul takes my hand and leads me past several closed doors, then nudges one open and tugs me into a library. The walls are lined with bookshelves, tall enough to need ladders on special tracks to reach the highest books, but Bookworm Ossani leads me past all that to the balcony, pulling the glass door open.
The night sky is velvet black, glittering with stars, and snowflakes spiral down from the heavens. The grounds are already white, like they’ve been dusted with icing sugar, and hey. Maybe it’ll stick this time.
“Nico’s wife is… interesting.”
Raul grunts in agreement, tugging me close and tucking my hair behind my ear. He’s still wearing that sling, his suit jacket slung over both shoulders with one sleeve hanging empty. Underneath, his shirt is crisp and white.
God, he’s sexy. I just want to rub myself all over him like a cat. Maybe I will once his wound has healed better.
The air is so cold, the tip of my nose is going numb. I press it against his throat as I say, “I guess she must be pretty special for Nico to marry her after a week.”
Above me, Raul is quiet for a long time. Then: “I’m not waiting because I’m not sure. Is that what you think? I thought you’d want a big wedding with lots of guests and dancing and an orchestra.”
