Page 65 of Mafia Target

“Because you contacted me. Months ago. Told me to get to Málaga, remember?”

There was a pause. “You didn’t succeed, did you?”

I couldn’t tell whether he was hopeful or worried about the outcome. “You should have updated me when the situation changed.”

“Are you ringing to chastise me? Ma dai, Ricci. I would hope you know better than that.”

I ground my back teeth together. “You don’t own me, D’Agostino. And you don’t want to piss me off, either. Otherwise, I will tell Ravazzani—and his wife—who put the hit out on Giulio. What will that do to your happy little home life?”

The line went very quiet. D’Agostino’s voice was low and deep when he finally spoke up. “If you do, coglione, I will have much to say about who sat on that rooftop in Siderno four years ago. I don’t think you will be forgiven for it.”

I couldn’t let Giulio find that out. He would never stay. He might even try to kill me again.

“So we agree,” I said, my fingers digging into the sides of the phone. “I’ll keep your secret and you keep mine.”

“I don’t like owing favors to others.”

“Too fucking bad. We don’t have another choice.”

The silence stretched. He and Vito had probably muted the phone to discuss the proposition. I waited, dodging tourists on their way to breakfast.

“Fine,” he said. “We take this one to our graves. And lose this number.”

He disconnected.

Dio santo, he must love Gianna Mancini a fuck of a lot.

My face broke out in a huge smile. Free. I was finally free of D’Agostino and Ravazzani for good. No one would ever learn of my involvement in their feud.

And I could pursue Giulio as a partner . . . lover . . . boyfriend. Whatever he wanted. The label didn’t matter to me, as long as we were together.

An ache settled behind my sternum. I suspected it was pure happiness.

In the market I bought as much cheese, meat and bread as I could carry, then headed back toward the docks. Giulio was having caffè and a croissant when I found him. He gestured to the empty seat across from him. A bag with my breakfast waited on the table.

“Grazie, principe.” I opened the bag and took out the croissant first. “What did your friend say?”

“They are turning around and heading closer to shore. Forty-five minutes or so. He’ll send someone with a boat to pick us up.”

In the morning light I couldn’t stop staring at him. Unshaven and wearing sunglasses with messy hair, he was gorgeous. He fit in here, in this beautiful city with the most beautiful people. But then, he looked good no matter where he went.

I couldn’t help it. I removed his sunglasses off his face and leaned over the table. I heard his intake of breath just before I sealed our mouths together for a kiss. I moved my lips over his slowly, needing a moment of reassurance that he was here. Safe, with me.

Mine.

I pulled back after a few seconds and retook my seat. Giulio’s cheeks were flushed. “I hadn’t pegged you as an exhibitionist.”

“I can’t kiss you in public?”

“Of course you can. I didn’t think you’d want to. You’re a fairly private person.”

“You think I’m shy?”

“No.” He sipped from his cup. “Private doesn’t mean shy. Private means I don’t know shit about your life, other than what you do for a living, that you were raised by your nonna, and you have an assistant named Sasha.”

I chewed a bite of croissant. “What would you like to know?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Who hired you to kill me?”

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