Page 17 of Brando

“It’s a security measure, Mason. Nothing more.”

“Look around you – is there not enough security surrounding you? You’ll never have to soil your hands with another’s blood.”

“Get me the gun, Mason.”

I feel badass all of a sudden, as I give the order.

“You’re not going to use it on Gatti, are you?”

I scoff at the suggestion as he shoots me a withering look.

We drive around for an additional forty minutes to make sure we’re not being followed, before each car branches off in a different direction to lose any potential threats we may have missed.

“Gatti’s insisting on you staying here,” Mason tells me, as we reach the elevator and the driver punches in a series of numbers into the panel.

“The apartment is fine,” I tell him. I don’t want to tell him about my exact thoughts on the matter. I’ve gone from everything to nothing and now I’m standing in everything again. Brando looks like he’s set for life, and I’m happy for him. But me, I just want to stay as far away from that lifestyle as I possibly can; I could maybe deal with losing everything once. Twice is a stretch at best.

“Mia, it’s safer for you here. Now that Falcone knows you’re in my camp, he knows where to find you. He doesn’t know about Brando.”

“The apartment, or with you. That’s non-negotiable.”

“What’s non-negotiable?”

The elevator doors slide open to reveal Brando standing in nothing but a pair of sweats, liquid pooling across his naked chest as he lifts a towel to his face. I know he doesn’t see it, but he must feel the way my heart stutters at the sight of him, because he shoots me a smirk. It’s the closest thing to the lopsided grin he used to give me once upon a time, the one he’s kept well-hidden since we found each other again.

Mason rushes to explain before I can shoot him a warning look and tell him not to, knowing full well what he’s doing.

“Mia refuses to stay here,” he blabs, as we exit the elevator. Brando regards me from beneath his hooded eyes, eyeingme carefully. There are so many questions swimming in his fathomless eyes, but it seems like he doesn’t know where to start.

“Why not?” he asks, as he throws his towel around his neck and tugs at either end of it.

“I’d rather stay at the apartment.”

“Well, you can’t. Because that property is now compromised. Anything to do with Mason is now compromised, because Falcone knows exactly whose protection you have. He’ll hit his strongholds,” he lifts a finger and points it stiffly at Mason “to get to you.”

“You don’t know that,” I stammer.

“Don’t I? It’s why he brought you out into the open, isn’t it? Because he couldn’t find you otherwise.”

My heart stops ticking. He’s right. Everything Frank told me at that meeting could’ve been done over the phone. Instead, he wanted a meeting. And he got one. He got exactly what he wanted. And Brando knew precisely what the man was up to. And yet, he still let me go…

“Why would you let me meet him if you knew he just wanted to know where I am?” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice. It feels like a betrayal. Like entrapment.

“Because Falcone knew you wouldn’t go alone. He knew you’d bring someone. And now he thinks he’s got the information he needs.”

“When really, he doesn’t,” Mason surmises. “He has information – it’s just not therightinformation.”

It’s genius. Even I can admit that. I’m equal parts impressed and overwhelmed by the way that Brando managed to orchestrate the meeting to our advantage.

“Now, tell me exactly what he told you about your sisters.”

9

BRANDO

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

My voice slices through the thickness of the air as I unbutton my coat and take a seat at one end of the conference table. Dangerous shadows cling to every corner of every wall, even as my eyes pierce through the room, scrutinizing every figure seated at the long table. I don’t bother with their names. The chances of us crossing paths again after this deal is done is negligible.

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