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Leonardo pretends to rub his jaw, covering his smirk, and I plan to peel his skin from his body later when there aren’t any witnesses to calm the immediate need to see blood.
Good boy.
Good. Boy.
Condescending bitch.
Hands clenched into fists, I hold them against my knees, my stare never leaving Bianchi’s consigliera. His twin fucking sister.
This can’t be happening.
She artfully avoids my murderous glare the entire meeting. She smiles casually, laughs easily, and speaks with little room for argument. I hear nothing about Salvatore and Caterina’s wedding plans, my ears only piquing when the Irish are brought up.
“Diego has been effective in running facial recognition across our states and cross-referencing it against known Irish soldiers or known associates.”
The attention turns to me, and I dip my chin once to confirm what Lorenzo has just said. “No hits at this point. It’s not foolproof, but it’s a start. I’ll keep with it and advise both families if anything changes.”
“Is it feasible to widen your search parameters to our state border cities?”
Her voice is harsher here than in the forest, and it takes everything within me not to shake my head and reject the sound. Which version is an act? This formidable leader or the woman who whispers in Italian and smiles as she runs?
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
She waits, but I don’t speak again. “If Lorenzo has no argument with you implementing that change…” She looks at my boss for confirmation.
“Not at all.”
I nod.
“Wonderful. I would also like you to organize a meeting with the Rein and Shay conglomerate,” she says. “If they are to be an ally to both our outfits, it’s necessary that we areallcomfortable with the arrangement.”
Vincent speaks evenly. “That can be arranged. I will liaise directly with you?”
“Please.” Alessia forces a smile.
The conversation swirls around me, but I only see her. Everyone else fades away, and I can’t see or think of anything else. My mind is blank, with only her name pounding through my temples.
Without thinking, I pick up my phone and send an email I know I shouldn’t—a request that is so far from appropriate I question my sanity. The right thing to do here is to cut ties with The Quest completely and pretend I have no idea what Chicago’s consigliera does in her spare time. Instead, I recall her weight in my arms and how I wish I never had to put her down. How perfect she felt at my mercy. I want her there again. Only I don’t want her to be oblivious to my identity.
“If that’s everything, I have a table reserved for us all at my restaurant in the city”—Salvatore checks his watch—“in the next hour or so.” He stands. “Amadeo will provide you with the details.”
He leaves without another word.
Alessia stands, and I find myself mimicking the movement. She notices, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ll see you gentlemen this evening. Narciso will see you out.”
My heart pounds in my chest, loud enough that Lorenzo has to grab my shoulder to get my attention.
“What?”
His gaze is set in the same direction as mine. “She’s pretty.”
My head turns in his direction slowly, my scowl bordering on pure rage.
He doesn’t attempt to hide his smile. “Will you be joining us tonight?”
“It’s the thirteenth.”
He dips his chin. “It is.”
