Page 244 of Niccolo

Their children.

I felt like I was going to vomit.

When Fausto saw my reaction, he sneered, “You need to toughen up.”

“They were civilians,” I snarled, repeating the term Niccolo had used.

“Which means nothing, other than they’re easier to threaten. Besides, I only did to them what my nephews would have done eventually. I just did it sooner, that’s all.”

“Your nephews would have killed them?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course.”

That didn’t make any sense.

Niccolo had been using the bankers as a moral cudgel against me – there was no way that he or his brothers would have murdered them. Not unless –

And then I understood Fausto’s logic.

Just like him, it was completely self-serving and corrupt.

“The brothers would have killed the bankers for stealingfrom them,” I said, “butyoukilled them becausethey stoleforyou, and you just wanted to tie up the loose ends. NOT the same thing.”

“When did you start advocating on behalf of our enemies?” Fausto sneered.

“When you started killing innocent people and not telling me about it,” I snapped.

He glared at me. “Maybe your little dalliance with Niccolo has been a bad idea.”

“No more killing civilians,” I seethed, “or I walk.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled – then smiled nastily. “You wouldn’t get the rest of your money.”

“Yeah, like withholding money is the only thing you’d do to me,” I said sarcastically.

“Look… let’s not go down that road,” Fausto said –

Even thoughhewas the one who’d implied violence.

That is, before he undercut it with his comment about me not getting my money.

“No more killing civilians,” I insisted.

“Why are you reacting like this? Why no compunctions about killing my nephews, but suddenly you’re in an uproar about some anonymous bankers you’ve never met?”

“Are you really so fucking far gone that I have to answer that question?”

Fausto smiled darkly. “Because my nephews are mafia… and the bankers weren’t.”

“Bingo.”

He settled back in his chair and looked at me with disdain. “You’re not the woman I hoped you were.”

“Thank God for that,” I snarled. “From this point onward, no more killing civilians.”

He sighed contemptuously. “Fine.”

I would have asked him to swear on it, but considering he’d had his own brother murdered – and swore to Mezzasalma, then broke his own oath – I didn’t see the point.

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