Page 74 of The Fighter

“Yes,” he replies. “Also, Antonio called and gave me a heads-up that you’d be here.”

I’m not surprised. Gabriel doesn’t launder Antonio Moretti’s money—I do—but the padrino doesn’t believe in making unnecessary enemies.

“And you left your estate and drove into the heart of the city to find me?” I ask dryly. “I’m touched. What can I do for you, Gabriel?”

“I came by because I wanted to meet your fiancée. But more importantly, I owe you an apology that’s long overdue.” There’s genuine remorse in his eyes. “I am sorry, Tomas. I deeply regret everything my father put you through. I knew he wasn’t a good person, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until he targeted Cici. My wife,” he adds. “We got married a couple of years ago.”

“I heard. Congratulations. And you don’t owe me an apology, Gabriel. It’s not your fault that Alonzo is an abusive jerk.”

“We’re going to have to disagree on that,” he says. “I hear your fiancée, Alina, is Vidone Laurenti’s daughter.”

Of course he knows. “Did the padrino tell you that?”

“He filled me in, but he didn’t have to. Laurenti told me himself when he dropped by.”

“To kiss the ring?” Gabriel is an introvert to the extreme. I can imagine how much he enjoys having everyone drop by to pay obeisance. “That must have been fun.”

His expression turns sour. “I’m glad you find this funny.”

“So Laurenti’s already here.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. Ali still wants to believe that her father had nothing to do with her abduction attempt. She is still clinging to the illusion that she’ll tell him we’re engaged, and that’ll make the whole problem go away. I know better. Laurenti has too much riding on the alliance with the Kutuzovo OPG. He’s backed into a corner, and he’s desperate. This situation is a powder keg.

But Valencia is neutral territory. Gabriel will not tolerate violence in his city, and that’s the biggest reason I’m here.

“Not just Laurenti. Damir Malinov is here too.” There’s a note of distaste in his voice, and I make a mental note of it. “I’ve told them both to abide by Alina’s decision. That should be sufficient, but if they refuse to cooperate, I’ll get involved.” He grins. “I hear Alina showed up at one of Ciro’s underground tournaments and walked away with the big prize. Cici is dying to meet her.”

The tension in my shoulders eases. Gabriel doesn’t offer to get involved very often. By doing so now, he’s telling the world that Alina and I have his protection and that if anyone harms us, they’re risking his retribution. Laurenti might be stupid enough to risk pissing off Antonio Moretti, but nobody wants to be on Gabriel’s blacklist. Even if they survive the immediate aftermath—which is not guaranteed—nobody in the world will clean their money for them.

This is the leverage Alina needs to make her father back off.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “I truly appreciate the help.” From the moment those goons tried to abduct Alina, I’ve been on edge, braced for violence. But with Gabriel’s intervention, we might be able to solve this thing without any further bloodshed.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t hold what Alonzo did against you, Gabriel, I never have. The truth is, I should have quit a long time ago.”

A shadow passes over his face. “I remained ignorant about a lot of things my father did, and that’s on me. If you ever wanted to come back, I would value your expertise.”

“I’m happy in Venice.”

“I figured you’d say that, but it was worth a try.” He turns to leave, but I have one more question. “Where is Alonzo these days?”

His expression turns frosty. “In Mexico City. He thinks he’s beyond my reach there. He’s wrong.”

I really wonder what Alonzo did to provoke Gabriel’s fury. It sounds like it involved his wife. I can relate. Because if Laurenti tries to hurt Alina, I will snap. No matter what the consequences of breaking the peace in Valencia, I will hunt him down.

47

ALINA

Tomas is in a really good mood when he gets back from dropping his mother off, but we don’t get a chance to talk until after dinner that night. “Did something happen this afternoon?” I ask him when we’re in bed. “You look a lot less stressed than you did at lunch.”

“Am I really that transparent?”

No. In fact, the first time I met him, I couldn’t get a read on him at all. But somewhere along the way, I’ve become much more attuned to Tomas’s emotions. Maybe it comes from falling in love with him.

“You’re an open book,” I quip. “I can read everything on your mind. I bet you’ll make a terrible poker player.”

His eyes heat. “You should put that theory to the test,” he suggests. “Let’s play strip poker.”

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