Page 64 of Made for Saints

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair. “She’s not a goddamn leper, Luca. She’s still useful.”

“Useful,” he echoed, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. “Right. Because that’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of your ex-fiancée.”

“Drop it,” I said, my voice low and warning. The last thing I needed was a lecture about Valentina. Not from Luca, not from anyone. “She had information. That’s all.”

Luca’s eyebrows shot up, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Information, huh? Let me guess—she’s suddenly turned into a saint who wants to help us out of the goodness of her heart?”

“Hardly,” I muttered, swirling the wine in my glass. “She’s still the same manipulative, self-serving pain in the ass she’s always been. But she’s got her ear to the ground, and she hears things we don’t.”

“Like what?” Luca asked, his tone skeptical.

“Like the fact that the Russians are running their mouthsabout us,” I said, my voice tight. “Apparently, they’re claiming they stole twenty million from the Italians.”

Luca’s smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp, focused expression. “Twenty million? From us?”

I nodded, my jaw tightening. “That’s what they’re saying. Valentina’s looking into it, but if there’s even a shred of truth to it, it’s going to come back to bite us in the ass. Hard.”

Luca leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his fingers steepled together. “Do we know which faction? Or is this just generic Russian bullshit?”

“Could be anyone,” I admitted, frustration simmering beneath my skin. “The Bratva, the Solntsevskaya, some splinter group trying to make a name for themselves. Take your pick.”

“And Valentina?” he asked, his gaze sharp. “What’s her angle in all this?”

“Same as always,” I said with a bitter laugh. “She wants to prove she’s still useful. That she’s still...relevant.”

Luca snorted, shaking his head. “Relevant? She’s a liability, Dante. Always has been.”

“She’s also the only lead we’ve got right now,” I shot back, my voice hard. “And until we figure out who’s behind this, I’m not turning down any information. Even if it comes wrapped in a fucking snake.”

Luca studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You think she’s telling the truth?”

“She’s not stupid,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “If she’s lying, she knows I’ll find out. And when I do…”

“You’ll kill her,” Luca finished, his tone matter-of-fact.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. The silence between us was enough.

“Twenty million,” Luca said after a moment, his voice low. “The exact number we're missing. That’s not just a coincidence. That’s a declaration of war.”

“Exactly,” I said, my jaw tightening. “And if the Russians think they can fuck with us and get away with it, they’re in fora rude awakening.”

Luca nodded slowly, his expression grim. “We need to move fast. If this gets out—”

“It won’t,” I said sharply, cutting him off. “Not until we’ve got answers. Valentina’s looking into it, and I’ve got Matteo digging through the books to see if there’s any connection to the missing money. But until then, we keep this quiet. Understood?”

“Understood,” Luca said, his tone serious. “But Dante...if this is true, if they really did take twenty million from us…”

“They’ll pay,” I said, my voice cold and final. “Every last one of them.”

Luca nodded, his gaze steady. “Good.” He leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Now, tell me—how’s Emilia?”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Are we really doing this again?”

Luca’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more serious. He swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back up to meet mine.

“Actually, I’ve got news,” he said, his tone measured. “It’s about Sofia.”

I froze, my grip on the stem of my glass tightening. Sofia. Our sister. The only member of the Conti family who didn’t know the truth about what we did. The only one we’d managed to keep out of this life.

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