Page 107 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

He took it firmly, blue eyes sharp and assessing. “And you are?”

“Angelo Agresta,” I replied, layering a rich, authentic Italian accent into my words. “And this is my beautiful wife, Delaney.”

Ivan’s predatory gaze swept slowly over Claire’s curves, igniting a fire of rage deep within me. My jaw tightened, but I managed to keep my expression neutral as he brought Claire’s hand to his lips.

“It’s a pleasure,” he purred, his voice smooth yet dripping with unwanted insinuation.

Stay calm, Vino. Don’t rip his throat out here.

My eyes flicked to Polina, his wife, whose icy-blue gaze seared Ivan with barely concealed contempt. The bastard didn’t even bother hiding his blatant disrespect.

Releasing Claire’s hand, Ivan finally acknowledged his wife. “This is my wife, Polina.”

I shook her rough, calloused hand, noting with dark amusement how she likely spent her days disposing of his mistresses. “Lovely to meet you.”

Ivan narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. “Agresta. That name sounds familiar.” His fingers snapped. “Ah, of course. How do I know that name?”

He knew damn well who the Agrestas were—an untouchable mafia family from Italy. My smile deepened, edged with confident arrogance.

“We’re quite well known. Our family extends from Milan to Sicily. My cousins are Gia and Eon,” I stated casually, dropping the names with deliberate care.

It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t mentioned it to Claire yet, but this was the truth I’d reveal to her later. I could see it took all of Claire’s effort not to stare at me in disbelief. Gia and Eon were the children of my aunt, my mother’s sister; one had married into the Romano family, the other into the Agrestas.

His eyes grew dark as he repeated “Gia, Gia, Gia,” each utterance loaded with a murderous intent toward my cousin.

“She went to college with someone very dear to me,” Ivan reminisced softly.

“Is she here tonight?” The fucker asked casually, eyes scanning the elegant room with predatory intent.

I wanted to gut this asshole right here.

A surge of rage clawed at my throat, but I masked it with practiced calm. “No, I handle all our Russian business.”

Ivan cocked his head slightly. “And what business is that, exactly?”

“We distribute the purest coke money can buy and provide premium military-grade weapons,” I replied, voice smooth and unbothered.

Ivan’s eyes glittered greedily. “I’d like a sample of this coke.”

Could this really be so easy? As I reached inside my jacket, Ivan snapped his fingers, summoning an imposing brute who stood about seven feet tall.

Okay, not that easy. I abandoned the pocket holding the poisonous coke and reached into the other pocket for the good stuff.

It was time for plan b.

Wrapping an arm possessively around Claire’s waist, I leaned close, lips brushing her ear. “Lativia, execute plan b,” I murmured into her hidden earpiece.

“We’re heading upstairs,” I informed Claire casually.

She nodded, playing her part perfectly. “I’m ready.”

Ivan smirked knowingly. “Joining the private party upstairs, are we?” He stretched out his hand expectantly.

“My wife and I have grown curious,” I said smoothly, placing the vial into his palm.

Polina regarded us with bored disdain. “Are you swingers, then?”

Claire’s mouth twitched into a wry smile. “More like watchers.” Her tone was lightly sarcastic, adding a layer of playful defiance.

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