Page 13 of His Nephew's Ex
“What’s your name?”
“Loriana Parlato.”
The name confirms what I already gleaned from Tiziano’s report. The bar owner with the Flavio problem. I’d planned to handle the situation quietly, efficiently, without ever meeting the woman who’d walked into hell asking for an audience with the devil.
Now I understand why Tiziano looked intrigued when he returned and insisted that I meet her.
“Would you care for a drink, Miss Parlato?” I gesture toward the crystal decanters on my sidebar. “You’ve had quite an eventful couple of weeks.”
“It’s barely past noon.”
“In my world, the day ends with the sunrise.” I pour two glasses of whiskey from a twenty-five-year-old single malt that’s expensive as fuck. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”
She accepts the glass with steady hands, but I notice she doesn’t drink. Smart girl. Never accept refreshments from a known killer unless you’re sure they’re not poisoned.
“So,” I settle back against my desk, close enough to catch the way her pupils dilate when I invade her personal space. “You’re here about my nephew.”
“Your nephew,” she says, and there’s venom in her voice, “is a stalking, harassing piece of shit who thinks his last name gives him the right to torment whoever he pleases.”
The crude language sounds odd coming from her refined voice, but the anger behind it is real. Most people who come to me with complaints about my family want money or territory that was wrongly taken from them. But this woman seeks justice.
“Strong words,” I say, sipping on my drink.
“Accurate words.” She finally takes a sip of whiskey, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. “He’s been terrorizing me and my business for weeks. There’s been vandalism, threats, and stalking. Just this week, he was on my fire escape taking pictures.”
Something dark and violent unfurls in my chest. The thought of Flavio watching her sleep, violating her privacy, threateningher safety—it makes me want to break things. Starting with my nephew’s bones.
“Why come to me?” I ask, keeping my voice level despite the rage building behind my ribs. “Why not the police?”
“I tried the police. They gave me a restraining order that’s about as effective as tissue paper against a hurricane.” She moves closer, and suddenly I can see gold flecks in her brown eyes. “The reason why I’m really here is because I’m tired of being a victim. Because sometimes you have to fight monsters with bigger monsters.”
“And you think I’m a monster?”
“I’ve heard you’re the kind of man who gets whatever results he wants.” She tilts her head back to meet my gaze, and the challenge in her eyes makes my blood heat. “The question is whether you’re the kind of man who lets your family members terrorize innocent women.”
“Innocent.” I taste the word like wine, rolling it around my tongue. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“You don’t think I’m innocent?”
“I think you are dangerous.” There it is, a word that I have never attributed to anyone other than myself. It comes out before I can stop it. “You’re the kind of dangerous that starts wars and topples empires.”
Something flickers in her expression—surprise, maybe even pleasure at the description. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an observation?”
“It’s an observation.” I take a step closer, close enough to see the pulse hammering in her throat. “But the real question is what you plan to do with that kind of danger.”
“Right now? I plan to use it to make you understand that your nephew needs to be stopped.”
“Before what? Before he escalates further? Before he does something that can’t be undone?” I lean forward, invading her space until she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “Or before I decide that anyone who threatens what I want to make mine needs to be eliminated permanently?”
“I’m not yours.”
The words pulse in the air between us, daring me to respond. She’s right, of course—she’s not mine, but something primal and possessive in my chest disagrees with that assessment.
“No,” I agree softly. “You’re not. But you’re under my protection now, which makes Flavio’s behavior a direct challenge to my authority.”
“So you’ll help me?”
“I’ll handle it.” The promise carries the weight of absolute certainty. “Flavio won’t bother you again.”
