Page 45 of His to Hold

His remark is quite specific, so I’m guessing that’s what he did with Rico. It’s a reminder of the consequences of betrayal and also of what I owe the Volantes, as if I’d ever forget they’ve covered up what I did.

“You won’t have to,” I assure him. “I’ll never do anything to betray Antonio.”

“Good girl.” Matteo grins as if I’ve passed some test. Then he turns to my husband, who’s been watching our exchange with pursed lips. He’s never been comfortable with the past friendship between me and his brother. “Want to tell me what happened with Reznov?”

“What did Mamma tell you?”

“Nothing, but it’s clear she’s pissed. I heard a couple of the guys talking about how you laid him flat and you have blood on your shirt.”

Antonio glances down at his white dress shirt and curses. “I caught him kissing our mother.”

“And that warranted a beating?”

“He was kissing her, Matteo. Are you telling me you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t know. I mean, they are consenting adults, right?”

Matteo is being incredibly calm about this. In fact, he doesn’t even seem surprised by what Antonio just told him. My husband picks up on that too.

“You already knew about them?” I ask.

Matteo shrugs. “I had my suspicions.”

Antonio’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t think to share your suspicions with me?”

“No, because I didn’t know for sure.”

Antonio paces back and forth. He’s like a tiger looking for someone to maul. I wonder if he’d be this upset about his mother and Boris if he’d heard about it at some other time. Or is it just too much for him to deal with on top of the stress of waiting for news of Gio? He stops moving, takes a deep breath, and composes himself.

“Did you speak to Leo?”

Matteo nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was looking for you. I need to go pull his head out of his ass.”

Antonio doesn’t ask him why. He just dismisses his brother with a flick of the wrist. Matteo saunters off, apparently unbothered by being waved away like some lackey.

“What’s going on with Leo?” I ask.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Okay, message received loud and clear. Whatever’s up with Leo, it’s none of my business.

“Go sit with my mother,” Antonio says. “She’s in the waiting room.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

He doesn’t answer, just strides off along the corridor. I stay where I am for a minute, unsure of where to go. This place isn’t familiar to me. I head in the direction Dante was leading me before we came across Antonio pummeling Boris Reznov into the ground. Walking through one set of double doors, I find myself in a short corridor. I go through more doors and find myself in a foyer of sorts. Several men, dressed in the standard mafia uniform of black shirts and pants, stand around. I don’t recognize any of them, but the nods of acknowledgement tell me they know who I am.

“Uh.” Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I clear my throat. “The waiting room?”

“In here, Mrs. Volante.” A young, dark-haired man who can’t be more than eighteen opens a door for me.

“Thank you, eh…”

“Jordan, ma’am.”

I flash him a smile as I walk into the room. Steeling myself to face the Volante family, I’m surprised to find Ava alone. She’s sitting in an armchair by the window. This is not the standard hospital waiting room. It’s more like the lobby of a fancy hotel, with the plush gray carpet, matching sofas, and paintings of tranquil landscapes on the walls.

“Isabella.” Ava’s greeting isn’t overtly hostile. If anything, she sounds curious about my presence here.

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