Page 4 of Sin & Sapphire

Careful not to flash anyone, I slid out of the vehicle, then strode into the house, ignoring Enzo. He hated me, hated the privileges that came with being my father’s daughter.

Fuck him.

I’d earned those privileges with every beating. But with Papà gone … shit.

Another SUV pulled up in front of the house, and Angelo stepped out. He scrubbed a hand down his face, covering his eyes for a moment before straightening and buttoning his jacket.

Uncle Angelo filled out a suit to perfection. Covered in tattoos from his neck to his fingers, and salt-and-pepper hair that only added to his masculinity. He looked like the sort of man romance writers imagined as mafia kings.

I wanted to bury myself in his safety, crush my face against his chest and sink into the embrace of his strong arms, before making him promise me everything would be okay.

When he turned his gaze toward me, his grey eyes were inscrutable.

“Ana,” he rasped, and I stepped toward him. My uncle hadn’t said more than a few words to me at a time in a decade, and I’d long since gotten over my youthful crush on the first man who’d looked at me in a way that made me feel like I was pretty instead of prey.

Even if I hadn’t gotten over it, the Russos had just murdered my father in cold blood. My job was to be a perfect, mourning mafia daughter while Angelo shored up the Costa empire. Fuck. Did he know about my betrothal?

Angelo’s gaze warmed as we stared at each other. His eyes slid from my disheveled blonde hair down my shoulders to my simple sheath dress—more rumpled and sweatier than I’d prefer, but there was no helping that now—down to my bare legs, and to my nude kitten heels.

The dress didn’t hide the bruises on my arms and legs from my father’s last beating, but that didn’t fucking matter anymore, did it?

I walked up to Angelo, drawn by his magnetism, then stopped a foot away from him, uncertain of my next move. Should I hug him? Air kisses? Somehow a handshake seemed just as out of place.

He solved the problem for me by placing his hands on my shoulders, large and warm, his calluses brushing the skin of my upper arms, and leaning over to gently place a kiss on my temple.

“Le mie condoglianze,” he said, his fingers tightening when I stiffened to step away. My condolences.

I tilted my head up to stare into his eyes, grey meeting green, and wished I could read him. All the years I’d spent making men feel good at my father’s side so he could close deals, of learning to read my father so I could escape his violence, and Angelo was a total cipher to me.

“Grazie.” The word was completely inadequate, but I was incapable of pretending in that moment. My father was a right bastard, and regardless of what the future held, I wouldn’t mourn him.

“Boss?” Enzo’s eyes were hard as he watched our interaction from a few discreet yards away.

Angelo stepped away from me, but not before pushing a strand of blonde hair behind my ear, his touch searing into me where his fingers stroked against my face.

“Inside,” he said. “The Russos intend to dismantle my brother’s empire, and we have to stop them.”

“Is this war?” I asked, my voice musing.

“The Russo bitch killed Sergio,” Enzo snarled. “And her boyfriends killed your father. Of course it’s fucking war.”

I scoffed. “Then maybe we shouldn’t have picked a fight we couldn’t win. Your brother knocked her up four years ago. Your brother kidnapped her. Your brother kidnapped her kid and her mother! Don’t act surprised when the Russos don’t put up with that shit.”

Angelo stopped beside me and slid a hand behind my back, gently guiding me inside, his fingers burning against my skin through my dress. “Do you normally discuss your family’s business in the garden?” he asked mildly.

Fuck.What was my play here? Was I a sweet ingénue who’d lean on his arm and breathily depend on his wisdom to get through these trying times? Was I a street-smart ball buster who could hold her own with her father’s men? Or was I a pawn, too stupid to be of any other use than marrying off to solidify an alliance?

I peered at Angelo out of the corner of my eye. Why hadn’t I paid more attention when he was visiting? Because it was embarrassing how well he ignored me, that’s why.

He couldn’t ignore me now. Even if he was technically the heir, my father’s people would never follow a stranger, a foreign interloper who’d made his disgust clear with every estranged visit.

Would the family followme? Good fucking question.

Angelo offered me his elbow, and I took it, wrapping my fingers around the thick muscles of his arm.

I followed him into my father’s study, and Enzo followed me.

“That will be all,” Angelo said. I looked up with surprise and hurt, but he was looking at Enzo with contempt.

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