Page 20 of The Marriage Contract

I punch the man in the gut as if trying to prove to myself I’m still the cold bastard I need to be. He gasps and coughs up blood. I hit him again, reminding myself I’m not a good man. In this life, nobody can be good.

“Please,” he gasps. “No more …”

“Thenspeak,” I growl, reaching into my holster and taking out my gun. I press the barrel against his forehead. “Or would you prefer I make it quick?”

The man whimpers. Then, slowly, he speaks. “I don’t know what he’s going to do next?—”

“So it was Vincenzo?”

He nods, looking defeated. “I don’t know what he’s got planned, but …”

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“We’ve got a new bar, a new hideout. I can give you the address. Okay, man? That’s all I know. I swear.”

I stand up but keep the gun pressed against him the entire time. “You know, ending your miserable life here would be far easier. It’d be safer for everybody involved.”

His eyes water as he stares up at me. “Please, Mr. Moretti. I’m getting married. We’ll disappear, me and my fiancée. You’ll never see us again.”

I glance at Allessio. “Is this true?”

He seems shocked I’d even care enough to confirm. “Yeah, boss.”

I grind my teeth, thinking of Elena, the kiss. She won’t quit my head.

Waving a hand, I say, “Take this prick to a secure location. Make sure he’s telling us the truth. If he is, wait until the bar is empty and then destroy it. If this goes well, nobody has to die. It doesn’t have to escalate into a full-fledged war.”

Allessio nods. “Boss.”

I holster my gun and leave the storage room, walking into the empty bar and pouring myself a glass of whiskey. I’m not usually much of a drinker, but my mind feels like a mess. I should’ve had the discipline not to kiss her. From now on, I need the restraint to keep this as distant as possible.

After knocking the whiskey back, I pour another. Paolo appears at my side, eyeing the bottle with his usual air of analysis.

“It’s been a long day,” I grunt.

“Mind if I pour myself one?”

“Go ahead.”

We sit at the bar together, both sipping from our glasses.

“You were right in there,” he comments. “It would’ve been easier to ice him.”

“I was also right when I said we need to de-escalate,” I snarl. “Vincenzo knew what he was doing, hitting us when no staff were there. He might want to make a point, not start a war. We’ll make a point, too, so the city knows we aren’t weak. If we kill one of his men, there’s no going back.” After a pause, I snap, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s the thing with you, Paolo. You don’t have to.”

“It’s just, back there … It was almost like you felt sorry for him.”

Well, it can’t be fun being tied to a chair and beaten to a bloody pulp. “I’d never feel sorry for a Romano,” I growl. “I was just playing a role. Good cop.”

“Ah.” Paolo sips his whiskey. “Makes sense.”

He doesn’t believe me, but he won’t challenge me. As I finish the whiskey, I promise myself that’s all I’ll do from now on—play a role. If I kiss Elena again, it’ll all be for show. I can’t let this feeling spiral into something dangerous like an obsession.

Anyway,she’splaying a role.

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