Page 2 of His to Hold

Leo follows my line of sight and snorts derisively. “Your wife’s got shit taste in art.”

“She’s made a lot of changes around the house,” I muse. I turn to scowl at my brother. “You were supposed to keep me apprised of what was going on with her.”

“I thought you meant shit like this.” Leo waves a hand at Rico. “I didn’t realize you wanted an update every time she bought a fucking vase.”

“Of course I wanted to know she was making herself at home. I mean, where did she even get this stuff?”

Though I gave her a generous monthly allowance for clothes and shit, she wasn’t supposed to go on shopping trips. I suppose she could have bought it all online.

“You’ll have to ask her,” Leo says, “or will you leave it to the rest of us to find out?”

He’s referring to the fact I asked my brothers to tell Isabella she was being sent here under guard as punishment. Recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a deeper injury to my pride, I wasn’t in a fit state to deal with her myself.

Before I have the chance to tell Leo he’s being an asshole for throwing that moment of weakness in my face, the front door bangs shut. Seconds later, my brothers, Alessandro and Matteo, walk into the room. I asked Leo to track them down and get them over here. Both are wearing black jeans and t-shirts. Leo must have warned them they’d have a mess to clean up because they’re not usually so casually dressed.

“Fuck!” Matteo releases a low whistle. “She really did a number on him. I didn’t know she had it in her.”

I ignore the remark and his obvious admiration for my wife’s actions. “Where’s Gio?”

Alessandro shrugs. “I called the house. Mamma said he’s not been home for a couple of days.”

Gio still lives with our mother and sister in the townhouse where we grew up. The rest of us have our own apartments in New York, but we also share a mansion in Connecticut and a cabin in Maine.

“And you couldn’t reach him on his cell?”

“Kept going straight to voicemail,” Alessandro replies.

It’s annoying as hell when my brother goes off grid, but I guess he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.

“We don’t need Gio for this,” Matteo says.

He’s right. We can handle this without involving the entire family.

“So, what are we going to do with this asshole?” Matteo nudges Rico’s body with his foot.

I tut irritably. Do none of my brothers have any respect for the dead?

“We can’t just make him disappear.” His father and brother work for us. They know Rico’s been assigned to look after Isabella. “It’ll raise too many questions.”

“We could shoot Isabella, dump them both in the ocean, and tell everyone they ran off together.” Alessandro’s suggestion comes with a grin to show he’s joking, but I still clench my fists in annoyance.

“Nobody is shooting my wife.”

The smile on Alessandro’s face gets even wider. Ever since he married his beautiful Italian bride, Emilia, the smug bastard thinks he knows how I feel about Isabella. If he does, perhaps he could enlighten me, because I am definitely unsure of the emotions she inspires in me.

“So, what are you going to do with her?” Leo asks. “You can’t leave her here, not after this.”

I roll my eyes. He’s another newlywed who suddenly thinks he has some special insight.

“Let me worry about Isabella. Just focus on what we do with Rico.”

“I say we dump him in the city,” Matteo suggests. “At the back of some strip club. We’ll make it look like a mugging gone wrong.”

“Not many muggers carry a cast-iron skillet,” Leo points out.

I flash him a glare, but it bounces straight off him.

“By the time I’m finished, nobody will work out what killed him.” Matteo gets a bloodthirsty gleam in his eye.

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