Page 19 of The Mafia King's Stolen Fiancée

My cousin was going to laugh his ass off when he found out I’d proved him right.

“Can you deal with this on your own?” I asked Dario.

His brows shot up, and his eye probed mine, trying to discern if I was serious or fucking with him.

“I need to take a few days off, and it will be up to you to take care of anything I can’t do from my home office.”

Dario’s brown orbs—the same color as mine—glinted with determination as he nodded. “I can handle it,” he assured me.

I shifted my focus to Domenico. “It’s unlikely that Vivienne and I will leave the house. Help Dario with whatever, and I’ll let you know if things change.”

He lifted his chin in acknowledgment, then listened without comment while Dario, Leo, and I went over a few more things.

When we were finished, the men filed out the door, with Domenico taking up the rear.

“Domenico, hold up for a second.”

He turned around and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb.

“It’s been over a year since the last time my life was threatened. Maybe it’s time to take you off bodyguard duty.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he regarded me thoughtfully for a minute, then shook his head. “Where you go, I go, boss.”

I rolled my eyes at the term. Domenico rarely called me that. We’d been best friends since college, but he never stepped over the line between our positions. Calling me “boss” was his way of reminding me that he respected my authority, but he’d push those boundaries to the limit if he thought I was wrong.

“I wasn’t talking about abandoning my protection completely. Vinnie needs to retire, which means I need someone else to be head of security.”

Domenico narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t immediately turn the job down like I knew he would have just a few months ago. Something had changed recently, though I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it yet.

“Okay,” he agreed, taking me by surprise. “As long as you understand that our situation stays the same. Like I said, where you go, I go.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good. Now stop wasting your time with me and go focus on your woman. I don’t want to have to chase her if you don’t do your job and she runs off.”

“Get out of my office,testa di cazzo,” I gibed with a glare that held no malice.

He grinned and pushed off the jamb, then pivoted and ambled out the door.

I had one more task to accomplish before I was done for the day. Grabbing my phone, I looked up Kye “Fox” Pearson in my contacts and hit call.

With very few exceptions, Kye was known as Fox—his road name. He was the president of the Iron Rogues MotorcycleClub in Tennessee. He’d gone to college with Nic, and they’d remained close when their lives went in separate directions.

We’d worked with him a few times, so I knew I could go straight to him rather than through Nic.

“Fox,” he answered, sounding gruff and entirely exhausted.

“It’s Rafa,” I told him. My lips quirked. “How are the twins?”

Jett and Violet were toddlers, and as much work as one kid was at their age, I couldn’t imagine wrangling two. But I hadn’t been able to resist poking at him a little.

“Little hellions,” he grunted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but I bet they have their badass biker dad wrapped around their little fingers.”

Fox grunted again. I was right, and everybody knew it.

“Somethin’ you need, asshole? Or you just stocking away an ass kicking in the bank?”

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