Page 26 of Filthy Little Games

I’m a witness to a murder. Not just any murder, but the murder of a don’s son by thecapo dei capi. At least I assume that’s their power dynamic.

If Emilio finds out who killed Izaiah, itwillstart a war. Even if Emilio didn’t know about the club setup, he’ll want revenge for his son, just as Creed wanted revenge for his brother. It’ll be an endless cycle of war that could affect the entire Rovina family.

Theentirefamily.

I study Ferraro’s profile as he drives. It’s possible that we’re going somewhere remote where he’ll make me return his jacket, then dig my own grave, in the nude, before he shoots me and tosses me in with Izaiah.

And…I can’t even blame him for being so ruthless. I know firsthand that people will do anything for the ones they love.

I’d kill anyone who hurts Oriana or go down swinging in my attempt.

I should be terrified of this mobster sitting next to me, but there’s only one thing that truly worries me — would Ferraro hurt an innocent little girl?

I’m just about to ask Creed if there are any exceptions to his ruthlessness when he suddenly clears his throat and says, “The way I see it,micetta mia, we’ve got two options here.”

Ah, we’re finally getting down to the nitty gritty. “Only two options?” Does he mean like firing squad or lethal injection type options? And I don’t know whatmicetta miameans, my something or another in Italian. It can’t be anything good.

“Yes, only two options that will work for me, since I can’t let you walk away now.”

“Let’s hear these options of yours, so we can get this over with.” I steel myself physically and mentally as I clutch the armrest like a lifeline. Sure, I considered trying to jump out, but one look at me in flip-flops and a man’s suit jacket, and everyone will assume I’m a crazy homeless person until Ferraro catches up to me.

“The first option is that I give you a swift death and bury you with Izaiah.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not a big fan of that plan. I don’t want to spend an eternity anywhere near that piece of shit. What’s the second option?”

“The second option is much riskier for me, but…it would allow you to keep breathing.”

“That sounds perfect. I do enjoy breathing, so I’m all for any plan where I get to stay alive.”

Taking his eyes off the road, he turns to look at me, not the smartest thing to do when you’re driving around with a dead man. His gaze slowly rakes over his jacket I’m huddling inside, from the collar to the bottom hem before returning to my eyes. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he replies as his focus returns to the road again. His tattooed knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel tighter. “We’ll go down to the City Clerk’s office tomorrow morning and make it official.”

“Great. Okay,” I agree, letting out a relieved sigh that I’ll get to live and see my daughter grow up. “What’s at the City Clerk’s office?”

“Our marriage license.”

Our. Marriage. License?

He definitely said “our” as in my and his license formarriage.

My head pops up from his collar in disbelief. “Whoa! What? Who said anything about marriage?”

Even in the dim car, I can see Creed’s jaw ticks. “Would you prefer if I go back to the first option?”

“No. No!” I affirm, even though I know there are some things worse than death. Is this going to turn out to be one of them? “Marriage? Really? Wh-why exactly would we need to get married?”

“Spousal privilege.”

“Spousal privilege?” I repeat.

“All communications between spouses remain confidential, and you can’t be forced to testify against a spouse in court.”

“Ohhh,” I mutter. “So, I wouldn’t ever have to testify about what you did tonight?”

“You wouldn’t have to testify about what happens tomorrow. I think I can get a judge to waive the waiting period and make it all official first thing in the morning. Then, you’re going to help me get rid of Izaiah’s body, andthatwill be covered by spousal privilege, even if the murder itself isn’t, since we’re not married yet.”

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