Page 15 of Savage Union
"Remember what I told you."
"Not a hair on her head. No one goes near her. And definitely no?—"
"Exactly." Vito cuts him off. "I'll check in regularly."
"She'll be safe."
"She's not the one I'm worried about." Vito's voice drops even lower. "After last night's performance at Bianchi's, the Commission has... concerns."
"About your control over her?"
A pause. "Yes."
"Want me to scare her straight?"
Another pause, longer this time. "No. Just keep her contained. And Dante? If she tries to leave, call me immediately. Don't try to handle it yourself."
"Got it, boss."
Footsteps retreat, followed by the distant ding of the elevator. I wait, counting to thirty, before emerging from my room.
Dante lounges at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone with one hand while eating an apple with the other. He doesn't look up when I enter.
"Morning, princess. Sleep well after your dinner party rebellion?"
I grab a mug from the cabinet. "You were there?"
His mouth quirks. "I'm usually lurking. And I couldn't miss such a spectacle. Especially not one where Don Vito's beautiful new fiancée tells Carlo Bianchi that the Commission's traditions are 'patriarchal bullshit.'"
I wince despite myself. "I may have gotten carried away."
"You think?" He finally looks up, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "You also told Giuseppe Ricci that his tie made him look like a discount funeral director."
"It did," I mutter, searching for coffee.
Dante laughs, the sound unexpectedly genuine. "Left cabinet, second shelf."
I find the coffee and busy myself making a cup. "Where's Vito?"
"Chicago. Business."
"What kind of business?"
Dante raises an eyebrow. "The kind you don't ask about."
"Right. The family business." I roll my eyes. "Drugs? Gambling? Murder for hire?"
"All of the above and then some." He tosses his apple core into the trash. "Though these days it's mostly legitimate. Real estate, shipping, import/export."
I take a sip of coffee, considering. Dante seems more willing to talk than anyone else in Vito's orbit. Maybe I can use that.
"So," I say casually, "how was last night's dinner, really? From an outsider's perspective?"
Dante smirks. "You mean from someone who wasn't actively trying to commit suicide by Don?"
"I wasn't that bad."
"Princess, I've seen men shot for less than what you pulled last night." He shakes his head. "The wine glass thing? Inspired. I thought Vito was going to have a stroke right there at the table."
