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“What?” I say when he turns back, shaking his head. “She’s reckless.”
“You realize you’re in a glass house, right?”
I snort. “I’ve never been reckless a day in my life.”
“Si, but you are…”
“Crazy?” I guess.
“I was going to say unhinged.”
He isn’t wrong.
Lara’s theatrics are an outward display of her talents and a “fuck you” to anyone who tries to play games with her. While chaotic, her methods succeed in keeping suppliers and clients in line.
Most of the time.
The ones who step out—they get delivered to me. Literally.
Calm words and thinly veiled threats are how I usually conduct my business dealings. But Diego isn’t referring to those times. He’s talking about the others, the people who’ve spat in my face when I’ve offered second chances. Maybe Mr. Giordano is lucky Lara arrived when she did. His son had been awfully close to inviting my darkness out for dinner.
I smile when I run through his injuries, thoroughly satisfied when I get to the end of his broken bones, chuckling when I almost forget the missing tooth.
I can fault my sister for the execution, maybe, but the results were more than acceptable. Entertaining, even.
“Whatever’s going on in your head right now, I have a feeling only proves my point.”
Having watched me deliver worse punishments and rake up a slightly higher body count than Lara, I suppose Diego’s qualified to comment on my behavior.
And there was that time last week. He walked in on me cutting off a scumbag’s hand, and I may have been laughing.
But that piece of filth put his hand on a minor. So now he no longer has that hand.
He may be missing a few other appendages. But I digress.
“Well, you stuck around for it all. There’s no leaving now,” I say, only half joking.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he tells me, shooting me a genuine smile and then slipping straight back into his role. “There’s a fresh shirt in the back if you still want to go to Verus.”
“Any other night, I’d say no.” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “But I promised V I’d make an appearance. Let’s just hope my father isn’t at the poker table.” Just like that, I remember my sister is an idiot.
I reach behind me for the garment bag, strip out of my bloodied clothes, and slip on a fresh white shirt, adding my cufflinks, and leaving the top buttons undone.
“Not looking forward to relaying the night’s events?” He chuckles as I stuff the dirty shirt and tie in the bag, zip it, and toss it angrily over the back seat.
“That honor belongs solely to Lara.”
I prop my feet up and relax into the leather seats, losing time as I stare through the facing window.
A figure outside steals my attention. “Stop the car!”
We screech to a stop and Diego unclips his seatbelt, turning to check me over. I don’t have to see to know he’s got his left hand on his sidearm. “What is it, sir?”
I hold up a placating palm. “Va tutto bene, Diego.”
He makes a moves to follow me out when I slide across the seat to the door behind him. My possessive instincts kick in before he even gets the chance to grab his handle.
“Stay here,” I bite out. Hell, Leo, you haven’t even met her yet.
