Page 58 of I Would Die For You

“Out with it, Stef. We’ve got about twenty minutes before we reach our destination and then you’ll be the least of my problems.”

I huff. “Well, when you put it that way.”

He doesn’t prod when the silence still thrums between us.

“I fucked Kaya,” I finally admit.

“And? She’s your wife, isn’t she?”

“That’s just it. I consummated our marriage.”

He hitches in an audible breath. “Didn’t she consent to this?”

“Of course she did! What do you take me for?Dio santo, Val—”

“Okay, I get it. I had to ask, the way you’re acting so torn up about it all.”

I’m almost ready to slam my fist in his smug All-American perfect jaw but I force myself to calm down. “Fuck, Val, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever did that. Much less to Kaya.”

“Because you love her.”

“Of course I love her—”

When I realize what I just admitted without thinking twice or even having to think twice, I clamp my mouth shut.

Damn it, I love her.

I love my wife.

And she won’t deign to look at me now.

Fuck, I’ve screwed up.

“She wanted this just as bad as you did,” Valentino says. “So where’s the problem?”

The Don… But is he really the problem? I’m scared of losing Kaya to him, but I’m scared of losing her, period.

“I can’t lose her,” I mutter.

Valentino presses a hand to my shoulder. “Is she worth it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then fight for her. If she makes you feel like there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her, then you know she’s the one. She’s worth fighting for,fratellino.”

He’s never called me ‘little brother’ before. It makes me smile. But then all too soon, we’ve reached our destination. The smile dies, replaced by dread. What will I witness in there? This will be Valentino’s first step as the boss of hisBorgata. Will we—me, my father, the Don’s soldiers in Torino—have done enough to toughen him up as his late father had wished for him?

The space looks like former hangars or a meatpacking station, all in metal beams and large, expansive, cold interiors. The couple has been placed in chairs, the woman’s hands and feet bound behind her, the man with his arms tied to his chair’s armrests and his ankles to the legs.

“Stefano.”

I frown at the sight of my other cousin Luciano on the premises. Guess he decided to join us for the real shitshow. He will, after all, be Valentino’s second-in-command once they really get going.

“It’s Stef-ano,” I correct with an exaggerated drawl, wanting to bring some levity to this moment.

Luciano butchers my name again, just like Kaya does.

“I don’t speak much Italian,” he says with a small shake of the head.

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