Page 214 of Remy

He sighs. “Okay, let’s get this over and done with.”

My pulse beats harder in my throat.

“You left town for the weekend.” He cocks his head, eyeing me intently.

“Yes,” I answer through clenched teeth.

“You weren’t alone.” He continues with the cool, calm voice beneath the cool, calm exterior, and it fucking drives me insane.

“You can quit the lead up to the dramatic reveal.” I shove back to my feet, no longer capable of remaining seated. “I assume you’re well informed. Was it Matthew who snitched on me?”

“No snitch was necessary, figlio. Sometimes a hunch is enough.” One side of his mouth kicks upward in subtle charm that doesn’t hit its mark. “But I’m surprised he didn’t warn you that nothing gets past me. I pride myself on caring for my nearest and dearest. I do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“You do whatever it takes to assert control.” I glower. “And I get it. You need a certain level of transparency in this line of work. But I’m done being handled by family members who claim to be doing their best by me when their interests are far from altruistic.”

His smile fades, but the calm remains.

He doesn’t speak, only sits there staring, lazily scrutinizing.

It fucking irks me. Being away from Ollie while she’s susceptible irks me even more.

I clench my hands into fists and fight to keep my breathing level. “Look, Lorenzo, despite us working together since my father died, we’re not all that familiar with one another. You spend most of your time with Salvatore while I do your dirty work, so I’m going to do you a solid and give you some free insight into the man I am.”

He continues to stare with undaunted interest.

“The funeral home is my project.” I raise a hand to stab a finger at my chest. “My brother may have negotiated terms, but I set up the working arrangements, I learned the funeral business, I’ve handled every part of this venture for almost a year now. And I did it fucking well despite the curve balls that were thrown.”

He remains quiet, contemplative.

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I’m going to fucking lose it.

“I don’t like being micromanaged,” I snarl. “I don’t like being followed or watched or whatever the fuck you’ve been doing to get insight on my whereabouts. And I certainly don’t like my personal activities examined.”

He steeples his hands in his lap. “Are you finished?”

Barely.

“Ollie is not to be touched.” My tone spits venom. “She isn’t to be threatened. Or antagonized. Or fucking intimidated. Not by you, your men, or my fucking brothers. I will die on that hill and take down anyone who dares to defy me.”

He raises a brow.

“If anything happens to her,” I sneer. “If someone so much as looks in her direction without my approval, I’ll make what I’ve done to the cartel look fucking dull in comparison.”

I wait a beat, expecting him to reply.

He doesn’t.

My uncle just sits there, serene, relaxed, maybe even entertained, his gentle smile returning. “Now are you done, figlio?”

Fuck. Him.

This sadistic motherfucker gives no shits. Not about me. Not about Ollie.

He’s a fucking psychopath.

He drags in a deep breath and spreads his legs out before him, crossing them at the ankles. “Can I tell you something I’ve learned along the years?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

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