Page 7 of Obsession & Oath

The request is met with stony silence until Teo sighs and leans back in his chair. “We could move her out of the country,” he says. “Take her passport so that even if she manages to get a message out or run, she can’t get back.”

Leon considers this a moment. “Europe?”

Teo’s dark eyes flicker to something behind me. “Emilia-Romagna.”

Italy?

I’d forgotten, momentarily, that there was someone behind me. That is, until he starts muttering, and a cold shudder of familiarity runs down my spine.

“I’m going to kill Rocco.”

Asshole number one. The one with the sly grin and the awful pickup lines who doesn’t stay down when knocked out by a serving tray.

Leon’s eyes are now trained on the man behind me. “Do you have a safe house there?”

With a sigh that sounds practically indignant, the asshole replies. “I have contacts.”

As if sensing his hesitation, Leon’s eyes narrow. “This is important, Dante.”

I mentally scrawl the name into the top spot of my list with flourishing cursive.

“I’ll have to make a call,” Dante seems to swallow down something bitter.

He’s uncomfortable. Good.

“Then I’ll leave Ms. Rubio’s care in your more than capable hands,” Leon announces as if he hasn’t just sentenced us both to death.

“You ignorant bastard,” I find myself hissing. “If I’m sullied before my union, it won’t matter if I’m dead or in Italy or anywhere else on this fucking planet. The wrath of the Cartel and my future husband will be on your doorstep before you can even beg for mercy.”

This draws a satisfying amount of alarm from those before me. I can only hope the threat resonates with the man behind me, too.

“Well,” Leon gives Dante a firm look, “that won’t be a problem now, will it?”

It’s Dante’s laugh that breaks the tension. “Not even remotely, boss.”

Chapter3

Dante

I’m going to murder Rocco Moretti.

It’s actually a very easy decision for me to make. Which I find somewhat surprising considering he’s been my friend, boss, and then companion in crime since I moved to New York five years ago.

The least he could do is actually be here for the meeting instead of spilling my secrets to Teo Vitale, of all people.

I pace up and down the corridor outside Leon’s office, waiting for the door to open and to be summoned inside to plead my case.

Not that I’d need to if Rocco hadn’t gone and opened his fat mouth.

Settling down isn’t exactly my forte. Or desire. Or anything that I think I want for myself. I’d been traveling aimlessly for years before I met Rocco one fateful night in South Africa.

Somehow, I’d come away from that meeting with the worst hangover of my life and a job offer from the Brooklyn mafia. I was offered a job that required me to travel and never settle down and use my very specific skills to bend the law in my hands. I’d never looked back.

Until thirty minutes ago. When I was brutally reminded of what I’d see if I did, in fact, look back.

Emilia-Romagna.

Specifically the town of Montecroce. With its idyllic Italian cobblestone streets overshadowed by the loomingCastello di Ferro—the constant towering reminder of the family that rules Modena and its provinces.

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