Page 52 of His to Keep
“My sister’s husband,” Gio murmurs. “He’s the new Pakhan of the Reznov Bratva. Very powerful.”
“Right.” I used to think I knew a lot about the world of organized crime, but now I’m not so sure. Reznov is clearly a major player, and I had no idea who he was, and I hadn’t heard of the Volantes before Gio came into my life, when they’re obviously a big deal. Considering my older brother did business with the Italian branch of my new husband’s family, I should at least have heard the name.
Gio leans forward, staring hard at Adan. “What do you want with him?”
“Our business interests intersect at a potential retail development in London. We’ve been rivals before and it does neither of us any good. I want us to work on this project together, for his benefit as well as mine.”
“And if Piotr doesn’t want to work with you?” Gio asks.
“It will have no impact on our agreement. All I ask for is an introduction. If I can’t seal the deal, that’s on me.” Adan sips his coffee and hums appreciatively. “So, what do you say? Agree to introduce me to Reznov and I guarantee I will deal with my father. I’ll forget about the money he paid to possess Miss Cameron, I mean, Mrs. Volante.”
Though I’m tempted to tell him that the person he should be chasing for the money his father paid is Jason Henry and not us, I’d prefer this was dealt with here and now. Adan strikes me as trustworthy. His disgust for his father certainly seems genuine.
Gio turns to me. “What do you think, kitten?”
I struggle to conceal my surprise, not only that he’s consulting me, but that he’s doing it in front of other Mafia men.
“Let Adan deal with our Barevsky problem.”
Gio nods. He gets to his feet and extends a hand to Adan, who sets down his coffee cup and also rises. They shake hands, but Gio doesn’t let go. He pulls Adan closer, causing the other man to stumble forward so he bangs his leg on the coffee table.
“Deal with your father and I’ll introduce you to Piotr, but let me warn you, if your organization poses any further threat to my wife, I won’t stop until every last one of you is in the ground.”
Adan smirks. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Gio releases his hand. Taking a business card from his inner jacket pocket, Adan drops it on the table. “My number’s on there.” He offers me a slight bow. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Volante.”
Though I’m not sure I’d say the same, I smile politely as the Russian mobster takes his leave. When I hear the front door click shut, I sink back into the soft cushion of the sofa and let out a breath of relief.
“We should go,” Lorenzo said. “Damiano is waiting downstairs. I messaged telling him to let Barevsky leave unmolested, but my brother doesn’t always pay attention.”
“Rosalia, you can come out now,” Lorenzo calls. I feel like a total shit because I forgot she was here with us. “We’re leaving.”
The Italian girl steps through the door from the kitchen. Her face is pale, but she offers a tremulous smile. Lorenzo puts his arm around her shoulder. “Come,piccolina, I’ll buy you some gelato.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s not a child, Lorenzo.”
“Actually,” Rosalia says, “gelato would be good.”
She smiles up at him and I groan inwardly. I hope she doesn’t have a crush on him. He’s at least ten years older than her and has more experience of the world than, well, the rest of us put together.
We head downstairs and find a black SUV waiting for us. Damiano is leaning against the car, looking pissed.
“Lorenzo.” Damiano pushes off the door. “What the fuck was that, sending me an SOS and then telling me to stand down?”
“Sorry,” Lorenzo calls out as he steers Rosalia away from his brother. “I promised this one I’d buy her a little treat.”
“A little fucking treat?” Damiano bellows. His brother just waves him off and disappears around the corner. He turns his furious gaze on us. “Do you want to explain what the fuck is going on?”
“Not really.” Gio mimics Lorenzo’s casually dismissive tone. “I need to get my wife home so I can make love to her.”
Damiano releases a string of curses and then sighs. He flings open the back door of the SUV. “Get in. My driver will take you home.”
“What about you?”
His jaw sets in a firm, determined line. “I’m going to get myself a steak.”
“Steak?” I ask Gio as Damiano strides away. “Why?”
