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“Carmine and Nico?” He snorts, nodding his chin at the crowd inside. “Playing with fire.”
AKA, hitting on anything with a pair of a tits and a pulse, regardless of which of the dangerous mafiosos here they might be married to.
“I’m surprised you’re not out there hunting with them, Drazen,” I eye him. “Although I haven’t seen you at Venom much recently, so perhaps…?”
He spreads his arms. “No, work has become my new mistress. Empires don’t build themselves. But also,” he makes a face, “I find it distasteful to chase pussy at the celebration of someone else’s engagement.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to sully the sanctity of my arranged—and stolen, I might add—betrothal to a woman I want nothing to do with.”
Drazen chuckles to himself. “You amuse me, Dante. You’ve grown up in this world seeing marriages exactly like this time and time again. And yet you’re shocked and outraged when it happens to you. Surely you considered the possibility of a marriage that might benefit?—”
“I was content to never consider the possibility of marriageat all,” I growl. “As you say, empires don’t build themselves,and some of us are coming up a little short in the Romanov diamonds department.”
Drazen chuckles a deep, rumbling laugh. “Touche.” He glances my way with a furrow to his brow. “Tell me, though. What is this animosity between her brothers and you? I thought you were a client of their firm.”
My tongue runs over my teeth. “I am, but I work with Ms. Crown. Gabriel and Alistair and I just went to university together.”
“What did you do, fuck their girlfriends?”
Wouldn’t that have made things simpler…
“No. They believe I…” I shake my head slowly, looking at the middle distance. “It’s complicated,” I growl quietly.
Drazen opens his mouth to say something else. But just then Lorenzo suddenly strides toward me with a dark look on his face.
“Dante…” He glances at Drazen. When I nod for him to continue, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, boss. We lost track of Silvio.”
Shit.
“The fuck do you mean?”
“I mean I think he picked up on the fact that we were tailing him and lost us somewhere in the house. My guys are going through all the camera feeds now, but, well…”
It’s a big house.
There’s alotof fucking cameras.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “He’s definitely still on the grounds?”
“Unless he pole-vaulted the fences. His Ferrari’s still here, and the men on the gate never saw him leave with anyone else.”
“Find him,” I hiss. My pulse suddenly lurches afresh. “Shit, and find Bianca,now.”
He grimaces stonily. “We’re on it, boss.”
He mutters into his radio and dives back into the party. Drazen clears his throat.
“What can I do to help? I have five of my men outside with cars.”
“I’ll take you up on that, thanks,” I growl. “We’re looking for Silvio Bonpensiero. I’ll text you his picture. He’s probably looking for my sister?—”
A scream rips through the night. I whirl, lurching to the balcony railing: that didn’t come from inside the party, it came from out here. I tense, my gaze stabbing into the darkness of the gardens surrounding the house.
“You fuckingbitch!”
Drazen and I both whirl and look up at the same time.
Fuck me. It’s not coming from the yard. It’s coming from the fuckingroof.
