Page 117 of Tainted Ties

“Hold still.”

I watched as my husband went down on his haunches in front of me, pushing the slit of my red dress to the side.

“If you had let me put it on at the house, you wouldn’t be on your knees right now.”

Roman strapped a gun around my thigh, a smirk carving his devastating mouth. “I love getting on my knees for you.”

I suppressed the urge to laugh at his playfulness because we were in anotso very playful situation. “I’ll hold you to that later.”

He tightened the strap further. “I count on it.”

He had spent the past hour teaching me the basics of how to use a gun while reminding me never to leave his side tonight.

He must have forgotten that I had used the same object on his deceased cousin.

“Everything is set.” Enzo appeared beside me, fixing his gun on his holster. “A few of Stefano’s men slipped in as security to get us in.”

My stomach twisted into knots knowing it was almost time.

“That easily?”

“With Raphael dead, their management has been… less than stellar.”

The crew had been keeping cover in the back alleyway for the past fifteen minutes, waiting.

The sound of excited crowds busted to life, heightening the anxiety gripping me in a vise.

It wasn’t because I feared for Angelo Bianchi’s life.

It was because I feared for myfamilyand how wrong this could go.

We were going in blind, hoping that our plan of distraction and execution would work.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

My smile was pinched as I shrugged my shoulders.

He palmed my face reassuringly, bringing me away from my pessimistic thoughts. “I’ve always got your back,sorella mia.”

Words he had said to me once before and meant it too.

A tightness in my chest formed. “And I’ve got yours.”

That was all that needed to be said between my brother and me as we exchanged a meaningful look before he walked toward the rest of the group.

“Are you?” Roman asked, pulling me to him by my waist. “Getting cold feet?”

For the first time in my life, I was sure of what I wanted when it came to the man who was supposed to be my father.

He had let me down countless times, hurting me repeatedly as if I wasn’t his daughter.

“I meant what I said. I want him dead.”

Roman tilted his head to the side, eyes assessing me, and lip curled between his teeth.

Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t verbalize it.

Instead, he squeezed my hip and bent his head, placing a firm kiss on my lips.

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