Page 70 of Vows of Blood

Sienna slips her arm through mine and looks up at me adoringly. “Kate’s loss is awful, but there will still be a wedding.”

There are some raised eyebrows, but nobody comments. Which is good, because while she didn’t outright say that it will be her who’s walking down the aisle with me, she implied it.

And that felt fucking great.

"And the assassins?" Tommaso asks. "The Russians are the obvious suspects, and Mikhail Volkov has been notably quiet."

Unnervingly so.

"Because it wasn't the Russians. And Mikhail has no interest in a drawn-out fight."

I hope.

“You’re certain?” He seems dubious, dark brows lowered, and thick arms that a heavy weight boxer would be proud of, are crossed over his chest.

"We've ruled them out. The Irish as well.”

The stunned silence that follows hangs heavily.

“Which means someone has gone rogue. This was a personal grudge, not business." Massimo concludes, and I nod.

Gianni's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "You can’t know this." The tendons in his jaws bunch. “Be careful what you say, Calvano. Those aren’t the kind of accusations you can throw around lightly.”

He’ll get no argument from me.

"Just as I won't be dragging us into a war based on assumptions." I let that land, watching closely for their reactions. "My father's feud with the Irish has cost us decades of potential profit and more than a few good men. I won't repeat that mistake."

My words are pointed. These men remember those years. The bloodshed, the losses on both sides, the time and opportunities squandered because of anger and vengeance from a fucking poker game that ultimately turned out to be misplaced.

Conti nods slowly, approval in his weathered face. "A measured approach is what is required, even if we’re anxious to see this matter resolved."

Everyone nods. Running vast networks of legitimate businesses allows us to operate the more lucrative, less legally palatable ones under the radar. The last thing we need is a war putting us all under the spotlight.

"It’s time for change, gentleman. My father agreed, you all agreed. Let’s not move backward."

Criticizing my father while he still technically holds power is risky, but these men respect strength and progress over blind loyalty. And we’re only discussing what the slippery bastard already agreed to.

Massimo clears his throat, looking briefly at Sienna before returning to me. "And Maeve O'Sullivan? No disrespect intended," he adds quickly, nodding to Sienna. "Won’t the Irish take issue with their alliance being... discarded… so quickly."

Sienna's fingers curl into my side, but she says nothing, letting me handle it.

"Maeve is aware of my relationship with Sienna. The arranged marriage is no longer possible; they have no suitable alternative, so I'm choosing my own bride. One I’ve wanted for ten years."

I pause, letting a hint of humor creep into my tone.

"Maeve didn’t murder me on the spot when I told her, which I take as we have her blessing."

Tommaso scoffs, the sound breaking the tension. "I still wouldn’t turn my back on her," he warns with a shudder.

We talk for a few more minutes, the conversation shifting to lighter matters. Business ventures, upcoming events, the kind of small talk that oils the machinery of our world. Throughout it all, I'm acutely aware of Sienna beside me, the warmth of her body, and the way she listens in, absorbing everything, and filing it away in that clever mind of hers to question me on later.

As early as I possibly can, I make our excuses, citing the late hour, a hectic few days and another long day ahead tomorrow. I’m keen to leave before my father arrives.

I’ll let the rumor mill fill him in on what’s going on.

Handshakes are exchanged and promises to meet again soon. As we turn to leave, Conti catches my eye. "Your father won't make this easy," he says quietly.

"I know. That’s why I’m seizing this opportunity while I can."