Page 14 of Gilded Saint

“Got your note about submersible manufacturers. Does he want nukes?”

“Not on the wish list. He’s looking to move sanctioned products.”

“For the Russians?”

“Yes.” I stare at the closed door. Alessio isn’t yelling anymore, and the silence distracts me. “When I’m back, I’ll share my thoughts.”

“No need. We don’t want that connection to strengthen.”

“Precisely.” I step closer to the door, listening.

“Can they hear you?”

“Possibly.” Although, based on the mishmash of angry tones reverberating through the panel door, I don’t think Alessio particularly cares about my conversation. “Hey, are the Grigis one of those conservative mafia groups? Like do they arrange marriages?”

“They’re one step above Neanderthal.” Over the years, I’ve learned Nick doesn’t think much of the mafias or cartels. “Why?”

“What is this? Hiding in the bathroom?” Alessio’s booming voice comes through clearly, so articulate he must be standing by the door.

“Do you need help?” Nick asks.

“Hold.” I open the door, and sure enough, Alessio blocks the doorway with his broad shoulders and extended midriff. But I’m taller than him, and I can take him. The guy’s in decent shape for his age, but he’s got to have twenty years on me, and he doesn’t have my training.

“Business. Can you give me a minute?”

“No man is going to want her if she’s seen coming out of hotel rooms. You stain my daughter, and you dare to tell me to wait while you do business?”

I open my mouth, ready to lay the truth out there, but glassy, tear-filled, terror-stricken eyes stop me.

Behind him, Willow mouths, “Please.”

The thing is, I don’t see the young girl I saved earlier today. In that moment, I see my youngest sister in a hospital bed, and I would’ve done anything to help her.

“What wasp nest did you kick?” Nick asks in my ear.

“Can you give me a moment? This is the syndicate. You can help yourself to a drink.” I gesture to the open bar in the sitting area and half-expect the angry old man to spit in my face, but I slam the door before he can.

“What, exactly, have you done?” The wanker sounds thoroughly entertained.

“Alessio Gagliano’s daughter broke into my room and asked me to marry her.”

“Don’t play tickle fuck with me.”

I bark out a laugh. “I couldn’t make this shit up. She’s pegged me as a better match than Massimo’s brother…what’s his name?”

“Leandro?”

“Yeah. He was about to rape her on the beach, and I intervened.”

“Of course you did.”

“Didn’t know who he was.” Truth is, I still would’ve stopped him. There are lines I will not cross, and allowing a woman to be assaulted is one of them. “What am I dealing with here? I mean, I’m not Italian. I don’t believe in their shit. He wouldn’t even want me to marry her, would he?”

“You’re in the syndicate. Leandro has a reputation. No sane man would want his daughter marrying her. You might be the best option. Hell, maybe he put her up to it. She broke into your room?” The bastard chuckles.

“Be serious. I don’t have all day. I’m locked in the loo.”

He sobers up, and I scan the ceiling, seeking calm.

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