Page 115 of Traitor

Luca Romano.

Strolling into my fucking clubhouse. Not a hair out of place. Suit pressed. Perfect. Deadly. And a look on his face that tells me he's out for blood.

Ah, fuck.

I don't have time for his or his brother's bullshit. Not now.

He walks straight to me, eyes locked, not sparing a single glance at anyone else.

"I don't have time, Romano." I cut him off before he can open his mouth.

"Bones." His voice is silk over a razor's edge. He breathes my name through a fake-ass smile, his anger barely leashed.

"What do you think you're doing? Killing our deal out of nowhere? Breaking ties with the Famiglia?"

I hold his stare. My face? A fucking wall.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want."

His smile sharpens, his jaw tightens. He's seething.

"Do you want war? Because that's what you'll get." His voice drops, dangerous. "Arcangelo is ready for it. He's itching for it. He feels disrespected, Bones. Our partnership was good for both sides, and you're killing it without even giving a real reason." His lip curls. "Spare me the'we don't have enough manpower because the club split'fucking bullshit."

Interesting.

I've never seen this cold-blooded bastard so worked up over anything.

Especially not money.

Our deal? It's lucrative, sure. But for the Romanos, it's a drop in the ocean. This loss is heavier on us than on them.

I tilt my head, studying him. Truly looking.

To anyone else, he looks composed.

But his eyes? His eyes tell another story.

Unhinged. Frustrated. Ready to burn something to the ground.

Something is off. This fucker could care less about going to war. I'd be able to smooth it over with Arcangelo anyway.

I lean forward slightly. "Does your brother know you're here?"

A flicker.

Just a fraction of a second.

Gotcha.

"Of course he does. He sent me." His mask slides back into place, but it's too late.

"You've been playing with fire for weeks now. Not only did you make Francesca's marriage to thatcazzocompletely useless with the move here, but now you're pissing all over our fucking deal!"

His voice drips venom.

"Pezzo di merda, marcirai come un cane in una fossa!"(Translation: "Piece of shit, you will rot like a dog in a ditch!")

I exhale slowly. "I have no fucking idea what you just said, but I feel both insulted and threatened." My lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl. "You better go before this gets ugly, fucker. The only reason you're breathing right now is because I still have respect for your brother. I'll be talking to Arcangelo about this."

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