Page 141 of Savage Enemy

With a small smile, I fake punched his arm.

What he’d said made perfect sense, especially after learning Marco had arranged my escape and the details of my life in Brooklyn. He’d always taken care of me.

And now? He was forging a bond between the Moscatellis and Vignalis through my marriage to Stefano.

My big brother. My hero.

“What about you, Santo?” I asked.

He flashed his boyish grin.

“Well, I’m Marco’s second, which means I’m now forced to live a life listening to him preach about dividends and returns while staring at him blankly and pretending to know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

That made me feel a bit better, for Santo’s sake, like maybe he had a chance at something normal. As far as that went in this kind of life anyway.

Marco walked in with a glass of bourbon.

“We’ve dealt with the bodies.”

Stefano came in after him carrying a similar glass.

I squinted at his hand, at the gauze and medical tape. Was he missing part of his finger?

“What the fuck happened to you?” I demanded.

Everyone stared at me like I’d lost my damn mind. I spoke more slowly, so the boys could catch up.

“Your hand. You only have four and a half fingers. There should be five.”

“Oh shit, when did that happen?” Santo asked.

“Four and three quarters,” Stefano corrected, his tone so casual. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

Marco stared at him. “The fuck you will.”

He sat on the chair opposite Santo and me, but Stefano remained standing as he turned his sharp gaze on Marco.

“We had a deal,” Stefano snapped. “I’m taking her home, Moscatelli, by force if necessary. Do you mean to operate in bad faith already?”

Marco held up a hand, then canted his head my way.

“Our deal stands, and my sister can leave with you—if that’s what she wants. Just because I won’t send her with the Russians doesn’t mean she automatically goes home with you. She goes back to New York only if she wants to. If not, you’re leaving empty-handed and shipping the kid here.”

Stefano rolled his eyes and then shifted his attention to me.

I had a choice, something no one had ever given me before. The choice to refuse freely, without consequences.

And like he’d read my mind, Stefano smiled, but doubt seemed to tighten it at the corners. Was he afraid of my answer?

Then, sweet mother of Christ, the man straightened his back, and that smile became a cocky smirk. So fucking hot.

“Would you please tell your brother that you want to come home with me and marry me and live the rest of your life on my massive New York estate with our son?”

As the doctor removed the IV, I glanced over at Marco.

“Well, it is a tempting offer. I mean, he has a really nice kitchen. Huge ovens.”

Stefano rolled his eyes again, and Santo laughed.

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