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Max meets my gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. “I hear you, Capo.”
I slam the car door behind me, limping a little still as I walk toward the house. But my twisted ankle from yesterday isn’t the thing that makes my legs feel unsteady. What the hell am I going to do about Max Pedretti? I can’t trust him, not after this radio shit.
But every time I look at him, all I can picture is the raw need in his eyes as I leaned in to kiss him.
Christ, I amsoscrewed.
Inside, the crew greets me with enthusiasm, slapping me on the back and crowding around. And when Max comes in behind me, they give him a cheer.
I guess hewasthe hero of the hour yesterday. None of them know the bullshit that rained down between leaving last night and coming back this morning. Most of them don’t even seem to pick up on anything weird between Max and me, thank God.
Except one person. Van nudges my arm, brows raised in question. I nod toward the kitchen as the crew start ribbing Max, and Van comes with me, leaning in as I fold my arms over my chest and put my head close to his for a quiet word.
“Everything okay?” he murmurs.
“Keep an eye on our guest,” I say shortly. “Make sure he doesn’t go wandering.”
Van’s lips curl into a smirk. “Trouble in paradise?”
I’m glad my arms are folded. I’d grab a fistful of Van’s shirt if they weren’t, getting myself in more trouble. “I’m not in the mood for your shit today,” I snap. “I’m your Capo, so you do what I say and keep your mouth shut. Are we clear?”
Van crosses his own arms, eyes cool. “Crystal.Capo.”
“Good. Now get to work.” I raise my voice. “Allof you get to work. I need to check in with Anna-Vittoria. So you better pray she doesn’t kick our asses over that bullshit yesterday.”
The crew scatters, shooting nervous glances at each other. Max still stands near the door, watching me.
“You,” I say, pointing at Max, “with him.” I thumb over my shoulder at Van, and then I stalk past, out the door.
Goddammit, this is a disaster. I can’t afford distractions, not with the bank job coming up. I need to get my head on straight, remember who Max Pedretti really is.
An outsider.
No matter how good he might look naked.
* * *
Anna-Vittoria’s eyes are ice when the Shadow opens the door to her salon silently.
“Soldano,” she says. “Do come in.”
I swallow hard and step forward. “Maestra. I’m sorry about yesterday. I take full responsibility for—”
“Spare me your apologies,” she interrupts. “I want results, not excuses. You assured me your crew was prepared. You assured me the job would be flawless. And yet…”
And yet we made every local news and some national. Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “I know. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to succeed.” Her voice softens with disappointment and she goes for the jugular. “I expect better from you, Fabrizio. If you can’t handle a simple armored car, how do you expect to pull off First National?”
Panic seizes my heart. Shecan’tpull the bank job from my crew. Fromme. I need to prove to her I can do this. “I…”
“Tell me everything,” she says calmly. “And then tell me what you plan to do differently next time.”
I take a deep breath and begin detailing our actions, our missteps, and try not to dwell on the fact that Max’s presence was one of those complications. But as I recount yesterday’s events, my mind drifts back to the comms device I found in Max’s room. I robotically recount everything I plan to do differently for the big heist as my mind unhelpfully reminds me of the water draining off of Max’s thick cock as he exited the hot tub.
“Maestra,” I finish, “please, give me another chance. I won’t let you down again.”
“You’re damn right you won’t. And Fabrizio—make sure the Castellani doesn’t lose a single eyelash during this job. You understand me? Use his expertise, use his skills, but you keep watch over him, make sure he’s safe. I don’t want to have to explain to Don Castellani that his man was killed. As indebted as these Castellanis are to me, they wouldn’t be happy.”
