Page 61 of Unholy Union
“Is that what you want me to do, principessa? You want me to leave?”
She picks up the glass of water and one of the thick beige pills. “I didn’t say that. I just mean… I don’t want you thinking you have to… I don’t need…”
“Someone shot at my wife today. You can imagine that makes a man like me a little angry.”
“Maybe a man like you, but not in a marriage like ours.”
My head cocks slightly to the left. “Care to explain what you mean by that?”
“You know exactly what I mean by that, Cato. We’re not exactly fond of each other. I’ve told you how I feel about you. Don’t you feel the same?” she asks, swallowing the second pill with another gulp of water. “You should probably be more concerned about Lazaro. He’s your friend and enforcer. He’s the one who was actually shot. I was just grazed.”
“You’re my wife.”
“Arranged. I’m your arranged wife.”
Tension locks my jaw shut. I almost respond how I would’ve just the other night, snapping at her like Papà would. Telling her something like she’s right, and the only real purpose she serves is to be on my arm.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Instead, I stick both hands in my pants pockets and let out a deep breath.
“Whoever shot at you is living on borrowed time,” I say matter-of-factly. “The moment I find out who’s behind what happened, revenge will be taken in double the measure.”
“I didn’t see who it was. I don’t think Lazaro did either. They were in a black SUV. Then they started trying to run us off the road. We were driving back from visiting my father and they came out of nowhere.”
My silence answers her as I mull over what she’s said.
The Valentes have no shortage of enemies. But who would be so bold as to attack us in broad daylight?
Typically, wives and other loved ones are off limits.
For somebody to come out of the blue and shoot up a vehicle transporting a capo’s wife—the son of the don’s wife—is not only bold.
It’s downright fucking foolish.
Frankly, it conjures up memories from years ago, back when the war between the Valentes and the Corsinis was finally dying down. Things seemed to be heading toward peace, and then Leo Corsini was murdered in cold blood in a move that jumpstarted the war worse than ever before.
The two families have never known peace ever since.
My stomach clenches at the possibility we could be living through the same situation.
But it couldn’t be.
Even my father wouldn’t stoop that low, would he?
He damn sure wouldn’t have approved of you letting her see Rinaldo today. It’s possible he found out.
I shut out the rest of these thoughts, shifting my attention back to Sabrina. She’s curled up against her pillows and started scrolling through her phone.
“Need anything else?” I ask. “You hungry? The staff can fix you something.”
She shakes her head. “Being shot at, then run off the road doesn’t really give you an appetite.”
“Was that, uh, your first time? You know, being in a situation like that?”
“If you’re asking whether I’ve ever had some random crazy person shoot at my car, then no… never happened once in my life.”
“I figured. How did the visit with your father go? Before all the bad shit went down?”
