Page 25 of Souls and Sorrows

Her dedication to discretion is the main reason I keep her on my staff.

“Sfigato,” someone says from over my shoulder.

I turn just in time to see Vitus Tallerico approaching with two of his henchmen. His black hair is slicked back, highlighting the graying hairline I presume comes from a life of living in the shadows, always afraid of someone jumping out to get you.

“What’s this I hear about you stepping in on my girl?” he drawls, stopping just mere inches from me. So close that I can almost taste the tequila lacing his breath.

“Didn’t really look like your girl when she was onstage, getting pawed by a bunch of men.”

“Good thing nobody fucking asked for your opinion,stronzo. Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just swoop in and steal things that don’t belong to you.”

“Oh, but she does belong to me.” Leaning back on my heels as he shifts forward, puffing his chest so it brushes mine, I give a small shrug. “At least, she does now. Unless you’d like to buy me out of my contract?”

Buy me out of it.

Do it, you piece of shit.

Every fiber of my being strains, silently urging him to offer money I know he doesn’t have. If he did, I’m certain there would’ve been other ways for him to obtain Ricci Inc.

Maybe he does love her though. Maybe I’ve stepped in and ruined something that wasn’t mine to ruin.

I let my gaze fall down over the crisp wrinkles of his brown suit and the unmistakably puckered red flesh just above the collar of his undershirt. The fresh beginnings of a mouth-shaped bruise, matching the shade of his lips.

Ariana’s lips were painted a pretty pink. Something dainty and light that matched the white of her outfit.

My jaw clenches, teeth gnashing together. I raise my brows, shrugging as I answer my own question. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“You’re gonna regret this.” He shifts forward. Something cold and hard presses into my sternum, and I bite back a laugh at how juvenile this entire scene is. “I didn’t put in all this goddamn work, so a Primrose could sneak his way into my business.”

“Winning fair and square is hardly sneaking in.”

Beside me, Jay takes a step away. As if he’s afraid things here might actually get out of hand.

As if we haven’t been held at gunpoint by rival defenses, or anti–climate change activist groups, or the occasional rogue witness. Even my own father pulled a .44 on me a few times as a kid, convinced that weaponized metal was the best way to drive home certain lessons.

Half the battle of survival comes from knowing what your opponent values and being aware of whatyouhold dear. People can extort you if they know you care about something.

If Vitus were going to shoot me, he would’ve done it already.

“She owes me shit. Knows what happened to my parents,” Vitus says, and I just stare at him because I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I’m not just letting her go without a fight.”

Jay clears his throat. “You’d have to find her first.”

Vitus’s head swings right, and he blinks at my colleague, as if just realizing we aren’t within the safety of Anteros. There are witnesses out here, and not all of them are on the Mafia’s payroll.

Then, he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I take it, you don’t know where she ran off to then? My girl has a knack for hiding, you know. In places you’d never think to look. She’s sleazy like that. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s out there, fucking someone else already, just so you have a reason not to go through with your contract.”

My hand comes up, hidden beneath the flap of my jacket, and strikes his wrist while the other grips the back of the gun, bending his hand and the weapon back. He grunts, applying pressure in the opposite direction as he tries to shake me off, but I raise my foot and drive my heel into the soft toe of his shoe, making him stumble.

He falls, catching himself on one palm while the other remains on the gun, even with the barrel pointed at him. The men flanking him rush forward, but he jerks his chin from side to side, waving them off.

“Doesn’t seem wise to speak about another man’s wife that way,” I tell him in a low voice. “Especially when you don’t know how that man might react.”

“I will kill you,” he grits through clenched teeth.

A few people waiting in line at the club entrance are watching, so I’m careful to lower my voice in case anyone is recording. Part of me knows that’s inevitable, but self-defense will be much easier to spin if they don’t hear our conversation or know what sparked it.

Lowering my mouth to his ear, I press the barrel into him. Right between his ribs. I don’t let it rest, instead driving it so it wedges between the protective anatomy, separated by his clothing and layers of skin.

---