Page 213 of Remy

“You don’t seem surprised, figlio.” Lorenzo cocks his head, scrutinizing me. “Were you already aware of the increased threat?”

I shrug. “There may have been a hint or two.”

“Mmm.” He nods thoughtfully.

It’s so aggravatingly fake. He definitely knows about Ollie. He’s fucking with me.

The three of them chat strategy and precautions while I remain standing, quietly simmering in animosity until Salvo rises to his feet.

“I need a coffee,” he declares as if everyone should give a shit.

“Good idea.” Lorenzo looks between my brothers. “Why don’t you two go for a drive and get us all something to eat and drink?”

“I’ll order it online and have it delivered.” Matthew pulls out his cell.

“I’m afraid I insist.” Lorenzo juts his chin toward the hall. “Remy and I have private matters to discuss.”

All eyes turn to me, my brothers with barely hidden apprehension, Lorenzo with no emotion at all.

“Why don’t we both just hang out in the kitchen while you two talk?” Salvo suggests. “I’ve got that fancy-ass coffee machine, and the housekeeper always has snacks in?—”

“I won’t ask again.” Lorenzo’s tone hardens.

Matthew turns his attention to our uncle, the two of them engaging in an impassive stare-off.

“Fine.” Matthew pushes to his feet. “We won’t be long.”

“You won’t return until instructed,” Lorenzo corrects.

Matthew’s fingers twitch at his sides, then he turns to maneuver around the sofa, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. “Don’t torch a bridge before it needs to be burned,” he murmurs. “Whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”

He continues from the room as Salvatore stands.

“What’s this about?” Salvo asks.

“It’s not your concern just yet, figlio. Go on.” Lorenzo jerks his chin toward the hall again. “I’ll have someone call you when we’re ready for your return.”

My brother pauses, the hesitance more clear in his hardened expression than in his lack of movement.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I can handle this.”

“You sure?”

“He’s sure,” Lorenzo answers for me.

Salvatore’s jaw tightens, but he casually strolls from the room, his footsteps retreating down the hall along with Matthew’s until the front door closes, leaving me and my uncle in silence.

“Are you ready to take a seat?” Lorenzo indicates the sofa in front of him with the gentlest of hand movements.

He’s always so sickeningly serene.

In the year we’ve worked together I’ve never seen him lose his shit. He’s given kill orders while holding that caring, fatherly smile. He’s learned of the murder of people in his organization and taken the news without a flinch.

He’s emotionless.

Possibly heartless.

I lean my ass against the far armrest. “I’m good here.”

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