Page 129 of Dirty Mafia Torment
He grunts, then yanks her in closer for a kiss that’s so intense, I look away.
I narrow my eyes at Renzo. “What am I missing?”
“Not important, babe.”
Translation: very important.
“Your father’s wife didn’t want you?” I turn toward him, confused. “In what capacity?—?”
“In the wedding.”
“Oh.” Make sense; he looked like hell warmed over at the service.
“The fair’s back in town this Saturday,” Riley announces, cheeks flushed and a bit breathless. “If you like antiques, you’ll love it. I found a lamp last year that’s like two hundred years old.”
“Sounds ancient,” Renzo comments, amused.
“Ancient and ugly as fuck,” Sandro adds. “If I’m not around, my guys will go with you.”
“And Fina?”
Renzo jumps in. “I don’t know?—”
“Fina would love to go.” I answer for myself. Because yes, I want normalcy. Antiques. Wine. Sunshine. Bad enough the psychopath disrupted my life, no way will what happened ruin it.
“Don’t worry,” Riley says. “We’ll be armed.”
“Armed?” I echo. Because, unlike me, Riley doesn’t seem the type to carry a weapon.
“Armed?” Renzo repeats.
Sandro grumbles into his drink.
“He makes sure stun guns are strapped under the front seats.”
Renzo bursts out laughing.
“Why not actual guns?” I mean, I’ve got a pistol in my purse right now.
“Riley’s too softhearted and refuses to aim to kill.”
Renzo is still cracking up. “So you give her a stun gun?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Okay. It’s kind of adorable how much he wants to protect her.
Sandro throws his arms out like he’s an open target. “Anything else anyone wants to throw at me?”
I grin, because how can I not? “Think that market has an antique bench like the one in your casita?”
Riley chokes on her wine like I shot it up her nose.
Renzo arches his eyebrows, intrigued.
Sandro doesn’t even flinch. “You into benches? I’ll introduce you to the one in my dungeon. Or have you already poked around the cellar?”
Well. Okay, then. Message received. Renzo’s not the only Beneventi with kinks.
