Page 74 of Made for Sinners

Rafe nodded slowly, his sharp gaze meeting mine. “And the ports?”

I turned to him. “What’s the latest?”

His expression darkened, the faint lines on his face deepening. “They’re testing us. Small shipments coming in light. Delays. Excuses. It’s not just the Russians—it’s others too. They’re watching, waiting to see how far they can push before we push back.”

I exhaled sharply, setting my glass down with a muted thud. “And we’re letting them?”

Rafe’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “We’re pushing back. Hard. But they’re not backing down.”

Luca let out a low laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “They think they can play us. Fucking idiots.”

“They’ll learn,” I said, my tone cold as steel.

Rafe arched a brow, watching me carefully. “You want to escalate?”

I met his gaze head-on. “I want them to understand that we don’t tolerate disrespect. Not from the Russians, not from anyone.”

Rafe nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll handle it.”

I leaned back, satisfied. “Good.”

For a moment, silence settled over the room, heavy and suffocating. The weight of everything unsaid hung between us—the threats circling our family, the enemies waiting for a misstep, the fractures that had begun to show beneath the surface.

Then Luca grinned, breaking the tension like only he could. “So, about this charity auction.”

I sighed, already regretting bringing it up. “What about it?”

Luca’s grin widened, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “You and the wife are going, right?”

I took a slow sip of my whiskey, refusing to rise to the bait. “Yes.”

“Your first public appearance as a married man,” Luca continued, his tone dripping with mock reverence. “Dante Conti, a devoted husband, parading his blushing bride in front of the elite. Who would’ve thought?”

I shot him a warning look, my patience with his antics officially gone. “Shut up.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s a good move. Show strength. Show unity. Put the rumors to bed before they start.”

“Show off your wife,” Luca added, his smirk turning wicked. “Let everyone know she’s yours.”

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the glass. “It’s business.”

“Sure it is,” Luca said, his grin never faltering. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure Valentina doesn’t get the wrong idea when she sees you and Emilia together.”

I slammed my glass onto the table, the sound cutting through the room like a gunshot.

Luca raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk widening. “Relax, Dante. I’m just saying."

“I don’t need advice from you,” I said, my voice low and steady.

“No,” Luca said, his smirk fading slightly. “But maybe you should listen anyway. You’ve got a lot to prove, big brother. To her. To everyone.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words settling over us. I didn’t respond, but the truth of it gnawed at me.

The silence hung heavy in the room, Luca’s words still gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I swirled the whiskey in my glass.

Rafe, ever the peacemaker, broke the tension with a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, enough. What charity are we even supporting at this thing?”

Luca’s grin returned, sharp and mischievous. “Ah, you’ll love this one, Rafe. It’s for theSt. Gabriel alumni fund.” He extended his arms in an exaggerated gesture, like he was presenting a prize on a game show.

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