Page 35 of Angelo's Vengeance

I didn’t know what that meant. Fun?

Me: Fun … like?

Theo: Surprise me.

I could picture her now, curled up on the couch in one of those kimonos that hung off her shoulder, surrounded by half-finished sketches and bolts of silk I had brought in. Her curls piled up in that effortless way that drove me insane: surly, stubborn, untouchable. When I told her I needed to go out this morning, she narrowed hereyes at me but didn’t complain. She mentioned that she might redecorate the garage, which sent shivers down my spine. Theo had always been hell on my cars. It had been a little game we’d played. I loved them, and she tortured them.

Her sneaking into my garage had been my penance for her catching me all those years ago. We had never spoken about it, but I knew that’s what it was. It hadn’t even been so much about the woman … it was about the words after. I deserved everything she did —each tire she slashed, each car she keyed. She’d become less violent over the years, only letting the air out of the tires instead of slashing them. Her small rebellions had slowed down to just once yearly, and I’d almost been sad.

I had left her at the brownstone in the Bronx that morning with two of my best men stationed outside the door. Norris was also there; he was combat-trained and could cook. He had been with me for ages, long enough to fully understand my tragic history with Theo.

I might also have had another squad of men parked in a brownstone I owned across the street, keeping watch just in case. Additionally, another team monitored the securityfeed from a block away. This time, there would be no kidnapping.

Renzetti had slipped through my fingers like oil. Humiliated in Louisiana, his sick little auction burned to the ground, and now he was striking back. Two warehouses were torched in Brooklyn. One of our cash fronts in Hell’s Kitchen was turned upside down. Earlier this morning, one of my men had been shot on the stoop of his own home. Renzetti wasn’t going to lie down and take it.

“I want blood,” I growled, the words bouncing off the dark-paneled walls. “We need to get this fucker.”

“Join the club,” Ilias muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. “If I don’t put a bullet between that little toad’s eyes myself, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Ignoring the fact that Ilias wanted to take my kill, I focused on what we knew. “We think he’s using old contacts from the Gulf Cartel,” I told them, pulling up the digital map on the screen we’d installed behind the bar. I pointed to a cluster of ports in Belize and Honduras. “Maxim has a guy down there we’re waiting to hear from, but he’s making plays here as well.”

“Da, he’s getting closer to the answers we need, but this is tricky business with the cartels.” As always, Maxim sounded bored.

“We need to make a move soon,” Kostas had appeared in the doorway like a shadow. “The longer we wait, the more this makes us look like fools.”

“I’m not waiting,” I said. “I’m hunting. Every day. Every hour. We don’t stop until he’s in the ground. I’ve been taking out any of his men that I find.” We’d caught one down near Oliveto territory and torn him apart, leaving his body steaming there for the vultures.

“And Theo?” Vaso asked. He was seated beside Ilias, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s good,” I said, my voice firm. “Protected. She slept well.” I offered the last piece reluctantly. She had indeed slept well. I’d checked on her every half hour and eventually caved, remaining in the chair by her bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

It took everything in me the night before not to touch her. She had been Venus de Milo come to life, stripped bare. I would have taken her right there if she hadn’t been injured andwary. Theo didn’t trust me, not like I wanted her to. She said she hated me last night, and I couldn’t blame her for that. She’d been so beautiful with those tiny dusky nipples of hers and all that bronze skin that glowed in the light of the bath. Just getting to touch her at all had been a gift. She’d had no idea that I’d knelt behind her and struggled to breathe through the hard-on I’d had the whole time, trying to center myself and be mindful that she was injured.

I turned my back on them for a moment to breathe. What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t say—was that every day I left her behind felt like leaving a knife in my chest.

Theo had changed everything. Or maybe she had just shown me what I hadn’t wanted to see. That I wasn’t a man immune to attachment, that I couldn’t keep pretending she was merely a strategic match, a duty fulfilled. She had bled in my arms, and she’d curled into a space in my heart that somehow I didn’t realize was empty.

And then I’d locked her in my house like a fucking prisoner.

Because I had to, Renzetti would come for her again. That bastard didn’t like losing; thatmuch was obvious. This was personal. The way he’d gone about it—who he’d picked—was specific. If it wasn’t about me, it was about Theo. Then there was the Carlotta factor. My mother was helping him—or, at the very least, she had opened the door.

“So … Carlotta…” Ilias said slowly, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Any leads? I’m worried for Polina, too. You said that she was mentioned? It isn’t good for her to be on anyone’s radar.” He frowned.

The other Anthakos sister, who was kept away from criminal enterprises, should be checked on. I clenched my jaw. “Theo said Carlotta knew of her, so I would ensure she is secure.” Ilias nodded, but his scowl deepened. “I’ve torn through every known safe house she ever used. Every contact. Every whisper of where she might’ve gone. It’s like she disappeared off the goddamn map.”

“Or someone’s protecting her,” Maxim said coolly, swirling the drink in his hand. “She was always good at manipulation. That woman is a master at that.”

“She handed my fiancée over to that psycho,” I said, voice a snarl. “There’s not a universe where she walks away from this.”

“Upgraded to fiancée already?” Ilias was cool in his reply. “Did she finally accept the proposal? I better see a ring on that hand.”

“You’ll see one.” Theo still needed to agree, but I was focusing on my approach.

“I agree that there isn’t a world where Carlotta walks away. She’s in too deep,” Remo groused from his card game with Bacco. He had taken our mother’s involvement even harder than I had if that was possible.

Conall rolled his glass between his hands. “You think she knew what he planned?”

That was the big question I’d always had about my mother, and maybe an answer I hadn’t wanted to face for a long time: how far the rot went. “I don’t know. But I don’t fucking care. She knew enough to set Theo up,” I paused. “I think she knew. There’s something else,” I added, flicking to another slide on the monitor. “I found an old Santelli financial account—one only Carlotta had access to—was drained. A couple million.”

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