Page 47 of His Tesoro

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you upstairs. You hungry?”

“I could eat. Oh, Matteo gave me a credit card. I could order us something?” I chewed my lip. “Do you think he’ll mind if I use it?”

Angelo snorted as we got on the elevator. “I think his bank account can survive takeout.” He helped me download a food ordering app and we placed an order for burgers, fries, and milkshakes. I needed some comfort food.

I sent Mila a text checking in while Angelo went down to the lobby to grab our food. Her texts to me had been sporadic, so I didn’t expect her to text back, but I still stared at the screen, willing a message to come through. I jolted when it actually started to ring. It was an unknown number, and I hesitated for a moment before picking up. Maybe Mila had gotten a new number?

“Hello?”

“Sofiya?”

“Dimi,” I breathed out in relief, my brother’s voice bringing tears to my eyes. I carried the weight of my worry for him every day. “Where have you been?”

There was a beat of silence before Dimitri answered. “You know I can’t say. I called as soon as I could. Fuck, Sofiya. Matteo Rossi?”

“Yeah, I know. All part of the Pakhan’s brilliant plan. Trade routes and all that.”

“I don’t know what he’s playing at,” he muttered. “Has Rossi hurt you?”

I hoped no one was listening in on this call. “No, he hasn’t.” I chewed my lip, unsure about my next question. “What do you know about him?” Somehow it felt like a betrayal of my husband to ask for information, but I needed all the help I could get to figure him out.

Dimi sighed, and I could imagine him pacing back and forth. He never could sit still. “I’ve never met him, and who knows how much of what they say about him is true. His uncle killed his parents and took over as Don. Rossi was only twenty-three when they were murdered, but was able to get enough men behind him that he killed his uncle and took back his city. His nickname is the Angel of Death.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at yet another dramatic nickname. “Do you know anything about his personal life? I mean… do you think he’ll be a good husband?”

There was a long silence. “I don’t know that any of us make good husbands. But if he hurts you, I will end him, I promise you that.”

I swallowed hard. “I miss you,” I whispered.

Dimi sighed. “I miss you, too. Just… be careful, okay? I’m following some rumblings about sex trafficking. The skin trade isn’t new, but this is focused on the Northeast. There’s been some suggestions that the Italians are involved.”

A cold chill spread through me. “No, that’s not true. It’s the Albanians.”

“This is more than just the Albanians,” Dimitri said. “But Rossi has traditionally been against the skin trade in New York, so you could be right. I need to look into Finnegan.” He muttered that last sentence. “No matter what, you need to stay alert.”

Angelo walked back in, two large paper bags in his hands.

“I will.” My cheeks heated under my bodyguard’s gaze, like I’d been caught doing something wrong. “Can I stay in touch with you on this number?”

“No,” Dimi said. “But I’ll reach out to you when I can. Stay safe.” And then the line went dead.

“Who was that?” Angelo asked, putting the food down on the counter.

“My brother.” There wasn’t anything wrong with me talking to Dimi, but after hearing him be suspicious of my new family, I felt anxious about it, like I was hiding some secret.

Angelo pulled the food out of the bag, watching me closely. “Everything okay, principessa?”

I pasted a smile on my face. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just miss my siblings.”

I wanted to ask Angelo about the trafficking, but something held me back. I’d never been allowed to ask questions about the family business, and I didn’t want Matteo to turn any anger towards Dimitri. I refused to believe Matteo was participating in the skin trade—he had saved Kat and Stasya, was doing everything he could to figure out who was responsible—but there was obviously something big going on. The last thing I wanted was my new husband thinking I was trying to insert myself where I didn’t belong.

“Everything’s fine,” I said, grabbing one of the bags from him. “Let’s just eat.”

Angelo tilted his head, eyes soft, but didn’t press me, and I pushed the conversation out of my mind.

26

SOFIYA

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