Page 72 of Phantom Mine

It’s been two days since we slept together and she’s refused to look at me for more than half a second at a time since. Try as her eyes might to appear aloof, her body is another story. Every time I walk into a room, I watch in real time as her shoulders tighten and her breathing gets shorter. She’s nowhere near as unaffected as she likes to pretend.

I extend my hand towards him. “Fifty grand?”

He shakes it. “Done.”

Angry whispers erupt at the table behind us. I throw a glance over my shoulder and notice it’s two low level Armenians. My father and brother insist on a partnership of sorts that gives them free access toFirenzelike it’s theirs. I have very little time and even less respect for their organization. They’re trigger-happy, temper-prone, twisted motherfuckers whose main source of income is the trafficking of women. TheFamigliamight not be a bastion of righteousness, but there’s one vital rule we all abide by — no harming women and children.

Ignoring them, I turn back towards Enzo.

“What’s the latest?” I ask him.

He settles back into his chair and pierces me with a look. “Marchesani wants to know when he can set up a meeting between the soon-to-be newlyweds.”

That gets my attention. “He wants me to meet Marina?”

“Sì.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Apparently Rocco mentioned it might be time he married. He expressed interest in Marina for himself.”

My teeth grind together. Even when he has no idea of happenings going on behind the scenes, my brother always manages to put himself firmly in the way.

Behind me, the conversation between the two men grows louder. They abandon the hushed whispers in favor of a loud argument.

“Fucking Armenians,” Enzo mutters under his breath. “They cause some type of altercation every time they’re here.”

“No way Marchesani will let his daughter go to Rocco.”

“He might not have a choice. Your brother isn’t exactly the asking type, is he?”

I had months planned before I made an outright move against my family. If what Enzo is saying is true, I may be forced to reveal my hand earlier than planned.

“Last time I spoke to him, Rocco mentioned he had a new source of cash flow.”

Enzo swears. “The fuck is he up to?”

“I don’t know but I don’t trust whatever bullshit he’s getting us into. Look into it. See if you can find out where exactly this money is coming from.”

Tensions rise behind me, the volume of the argument now making it impossible for me to think. I stand and whip around, ready to intervene and tell them both to shut the fuck up, when I see the glimmer of metal under the dimmed lighting.

One of the men pulls out a gun and points it at the other.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

Trust the Armenians to fuck up a perfectly good evening.

He shoots, hitting his companion in the shoulder just as he whips out his own gun with his other hand.

Chaos erupts.

A cacophony of shrill screams, tables being overturned, glass breaking, and people ducking for cover explodes around me. Terrified shouts fill the air as the women jump off stage and desperately search for somewhere to hide.

The mayhem fades to the background as I remember I just had eyes on a woman I need as far away from a discharging gun as possible.

Turning, I search for where Valentina might be hiding. I don’t have to look for long because she isn’t hiding—she’s the only person still standing amidst the madness, everyone else except Enzo and I having ducked for cover.

Barbed wire constricts painfully around my chest, the jagged edges digging deeply into my skin.

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