Page 27 of A Bride for the Mafia King

He shoots me a scathing look and Eva’s eyes snap to me. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” I don’t flinch. “You heard me give specific instructions to meet me after the dinner party. He didn’t. In fact, your brother hasn’t held up to his end of our bargain since that night.”

“Nico?” she asks, turning back to look at her brother.

“I’ve been keeping up appearances,” he says defensively, “Fabio’s been watching me like a hawk. Giovanni’s been whispering in every ear that will listen that I’m a traitor for marrying you off to this brute. I’ve been trying to hold it all together long enough to get this alliance solidified. Do you really think I’d want to screw this up?”

Eva considers him for a moment, then turns to me. “He didn’t do it. I know when he’s lying. He’s not. It wasn’t him.”

“You both should know,” Nico says hastily, “Don De Mello was released from the hospital the day after the dinner party. That’s another reason I’ve been keeping my head down.”

“Mila!” I holler, the booming sound vibrating the walls of the penthouse.

Eva’s assistant appears within moments, face serious and awaiting orders like a good soldier.

“Take him to the guest suite,” I order. “He’s not to leave this house tonight.”

Nico starts to object but Eva cuts him off with a look.

“Do what he says, Nico.”

With an irritated sigh, he nods, brushing past me to follow Mila. Pausing at the edge of the hallway.

“Tolya,” he says, voice cold, “if I was you, I would look for a rat closer to home.”

Then he goes down the hall.

I’m already considering it.

I wait until I know they’re both out of hearing range to speak again.

“If you ever step between me and a gun again,” I say, voice steel-wrapped, “I’ll lock you in that damn studio for a month.”

“You’re not mad that I did it,” she says, sauntering up to lean against me. “You’re mad that it worked.”

Damn her.

“You need to stop looking at silence as the enemy. Sometimes it’s just silence,” she says softly, “I understand you’re furious. And that you feel betrayed. But this isn’t the way to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

Taking a deep sigh, I place a kiss on her forehead before stepping away. Needing my own space to breathe. To absorb all that just transpired. Moving to the bar, I pour myself a new glass of whiskey and take a hefty drink.

“You really put a hit out on Giovanni? And didn’t tell me about it?” she asks as she moves to sit on the barstool opposite where I’m leaning on the bar back.

Her words make me bristle. “I don’t need your permission, wife.”

“No,” she says, “you don’t. But if you’re going to pick off my family you could at least give me some warning.”

“I keep these things from you to protect you. The less you know, the better.”

I see an argument begin to form, then she thinks better of it, changing her approach to the topic.

“You thought Nico warned Giovanni?” she asks quietly, “That he betrayed you? After all he’s gone through to arrange this treaty?”

“Yes,” I respond unapologetically.

“And you dragged him here, beat him, pulled a gun on him, based on a guess?”

“It wasn’t a guess.” My voice drops, low and steely once more, “It was a probability. A calculated one.”