Page 486 of Lodestar

“Watch the tone, DeLaurentiis,” I warned, causing him to arch a brow at me.

“You found what you were looking for, then?”

“Not like you don’t know that already,” Star argued. “I met Aurora at the Summit.” She dipped her chin at DeLaurentiis’s bride. “I’m sure she kept you in the loop.”

“She did. I made the choice not to reach out.”

Star narrowed her eyes. “Figured that for myself. What have you done with Crayon?”

“The man who murdered my grandfather? Withyourhelp?”

“Yeah. He’s a friend.”

“Typical,” DeLaurentiis scoffed. “He’s a friend but you only just remembered him?—”

“DeLaurentiis,” I snapped. “I understand that you’re angry with her, and I know better than anyone what she’s capable of, but watch your fucking tone.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate it if I talked down to Ms. Valentini.”

DeLaurentiis merely glowered at me then, to Star, drawled, “Crayon is working with the Camorra now.”

“He’s alive and well?”

“He’s earning himself quite a salary,” Valentini mused, placing a hand on DeLaurentiis’s forearm and gently squeezing.

Star frowned. “You’re paying him?”

“He’s very skilled at what he does.”

“You must have coerced him into?—”

“That’s between Crayon and the Camorra, Star. It has nothing to do with you,” DeLaurentiis retorted.

She released a breath. “He was doing you a favor.”

“I know. I don’t have to like it, though, do I?”

“No use blaming Star when it was your grandfather’s plan,” I argued, squeezing her shoulder and encouraging her to back into me for support.

DeLaurentiis eyed her up and down. “I heard what happened to Ovianar.”

Shit.

Star immediately tensed.

“It’s dangerous being your friend,” Valentini concurred.

From the outside looking in, Star appeared as staunch as ever, but I felt her sag, ever so faintly, into me.

“Isn’t it dangerous being friends with any of us?” I countered, annoyed at their dismissal of her. “And there’s no denying the lengths she’ll go to for those she considers her people.”

“It was Alberto’s plan,” Star whispered. “I just helped coordinate.”

“He should have askedme,” DeLaurentiis snarled, looming over her, his usually affable features puckering with rage.

And hurt.

As well as grief.

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