Page 51 of The Price of Power

Dependable? That was certainly one way to describe New York’s most feared assassin and the man colloquially known as The Angel of Death.

“It’s just too bad he didn’t take on the D’Angelo name when your father adopted him,” she continued. “So any children he has will be Marchettis.”

She shot a glare over her shoulder, making it clear that, in her mind, that meant we weren’t off the hook.

“Well, brother,” I said, clapping Matteo on the back as he sunk his teeth into his pastry. “I guess that means you’ll just have to knock up one of those exotic dancers at your club.”

“Gabriel D’Angelo, you stronzo!” Letizia shrieked in shock as she spun around. But it wasn’t just insults she was flinging. Arching her arm high above her head, she let the wooden spoon fly. Her aim was every bit as good as her baking, and I cursed as the damn thing ricocheted off my chest.

Behind us, a full-throated feminine laugh rang out. Both Matteo and I swiveled around at the same time to see Liv standing there, her hands covering her wide-open mouth.

She must have gotten up and ready quickly. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a thick ponytail, though plenty of stray strands had escaped the tie and fluttered around her face. Her outfit was simple: pale linen shorts and a plain cotton T-shirt. Her feet were bare.

For a moment, I just stared, taking in the sight of her. Somehow, she managed to be even more beautiful in such a casual outfit than in the couture dress last night.

I had a feeling that it wouldn’t matter what she wore. Liv would always be this stunning.

“Is something funny?” Letizia asked.

Liv shook her head. “No, not at all,” Liv answered quickly, no doubt fearing there was another spoon where that came from if she answered wrong. “I was just appreciating your form. You could pitch for the Yankees.”

Clearly, that was the correct answer because Letizia beamed at the praise. “Of course, I could. If I didn’t have to spend all my time keeping these boys in line, that is. Now stop looming in the doorway, and let me serve you breakfast.”

Liv quickly shook her head. “You don’t have to go to any trouble. I just wanted to see if Gabriel was down here.”

“What trouble?” Letizia said, already bringing a plate down for the cupboard. “As for this one—“ She poked her thumb in my direction. “He’s been about as useful as a fishnet condom. He couldn’t even tell me how you like your coffee.”

“I usually drink tea,” she said.

“Classy,” the housekeeper said with an approving nod. “Please pull up a chair and eat. You’re so scrawny a strong breeze would blow you down the street.”

“I think she likes you,” I whispered as Liv hesitantly pulled out the stool on the farthest corner of the island.

“Of course, I like her,” Letizia called out, already putting the kettle on the burner. “This one’s not like the others. She’s a nice girl. A good girl. Anyone could see that. What she’s doing with you, I’ll never understand.”

“And I’ll never explain,” I answered right back. Mostly because if I did, I was certain I’d be hit with a hell of a lot more than just a wooden spoon. Just to be sure, I cast Liv a pointed look. “And neither will you.”

Her face paled a little at my harsh tone, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake.

Of course, Letizia was right there to make sure I knew I had.

“Oh, don’t you listen to them,” she assured Liv in the motherly tone she used when we were on her good side. “They like to think the whole city is afraid of them, but they’re not so scary. They’re nothing but a couple of pagliacci.”

“You want to go down and tell the DA that,” Matteo said. “While you’re at it, maybe see if you can convince the FBI.”

“Oh, don’t try to puff yourself up, boy,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your father for forty years—if you were even half as bad as you pretend to be, the police would’ve found a way to make their charges stick. But since they can’t, you’re obviously not.”

It’s true. All my life, I’d heard her say that. To this day, I’m not sure whether she actually believed that line of logic.

“My apologies if I woke you up when I left the bedroom,” I said to Liv, hoping that by talking to her, I could change the subject. “I thought you were dead asleep.”

“I was,” she said somewhat sheepishly. “But I’m usually an early riser. I can’t remember the last time I slept in this late.”

Probably the last time that she spent the night with a man capable of keeping her up all night.

For some reason, even the idea sent a cascade of anger rushing through me. I couldn’t stand the thought of another man daring to touch Liv. It was enough to fill me with rage.

“You can sleep as long as you want while you’re here,” I told her. “There’s no reason for you to get up early.”

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