Page 61 of Savage Union
"Someone is always trying to kill me," he replies with unsettling calm. "It's an occupational hazard."
"And this doesn't... bother you?"
His expression softens fractionally. "Would you prefer I fall apart? Would that make you feel better about your own fear?"
The insight is too accurate to deny. I look away, unable to hold his penetrating gaze.
"Dante," Vito calls, not taking his eyes off me. "Have Rocco and Marco handle the cleanup. Make sure our guest is comfortable for his conversation later."
"Yes, boss." Dante hesitates. "The shooter—he's wearing Costello colors."
The name hits me like a physical blow. Costello. Liam's family. Elena's warning echoes in my mind:Days, not weeks.Have they started moving already? Was this an opening salvo in their plan to eliminate Vito?
And if so, did they care that I was with him? That I could have been killed in the crossfire?
Vito's expression reveals nothing, but a muscle ticks in his jaw. "Interesting. We'll discuss it later."
He turns back to me, offering his arm as if we're attending a gala rather than fleeing an attempted assassination. "Shall we?"
I stare at his outstretched arm, then back at his face. "You pushed Dante away," I say quietly. "You could have let him take the bullet. Why didn't you?"
Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, that I noticed this detail. "There was no need for Dante to die."
"And risk yourself instead?" I finish for him.
The way he looks at me makes my heart stutter unexpectedly.
Behind us, sirens wail in the distance, growing louder. Dante shifts anxiously. "Boss, we need to move. Now."
Vito nods, then gently but firmly takes my elbow. "Come, Caterina. Our car is waiting."
As he guides me to the Bentley, now repositioned by one of his men for a quick escape, I find myself watching him with new eyes. He killed my father without hesitation. He kidnapped me, forced me into an engagement, upended my entire life. By any reasonable measure, he's the villain in my story.
And yet, when bullets were flying, his first instinct was to push me to safety, even at the risk of his own life. He chose to protect me over allowing his bodyguard to take the hit.
What kind of monster risks his life for others?
What kind of villain values the lives of those who serve him?
As we slide into the Bentley and pull away from the chaos, police cars screaming past us in the opposite direction, I find myself stealing glances at Vito's profile. His expression is calm, collected, as if we're simply continuing our morning outing rather than fleeing a crime scene.
"You're staring," he observes without looking at me.
"You almost died." The words come out more accusatory than I intend.
Now he does turn, his dark eyes meeting mine. "But I didn't. And neither did you. That's what matters."
"Is it?" I search his face for something—I'm not even sure what. "Why did you save me? You could have just let me get hit. Problem solved. No unwilling bride to deal with."
His expression hardens. "Is that what you think of me? That I would let you die to solve an inconvenience?"
"I don't know what to think of you." The admission comes without my permission. "You kill my father, kidnap me, force me into marriage—and then save my life and take me to my favorite breakfast spot. None of it makes sense."
He's silent for so long I think he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost gentle. "The world is rarely as simple as we want it to be, Caterina. People even less so."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he agrees. "It's not."
