Page 73 of Savage Union
But how could he know that? Has the shooter said something? Does Vito suspect my connection to the Costellos?
The thought sends a wave of cold fear through me. If he knows, or even suspects, I'm as good as dead.
"What exactly are you implying?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"I'm not implying anything." His gaze remains fixed on mine, searching for something. "I'm stating a fact. Trust is built, not given freely. Especially in our world."
"It's your world, not mine." The denial feels hollow even to my own ears.
"You're a Rosso now—or you will be in three weeks." His tone softens slightly. "Like it or not, this is your world too."
"Then let me understand it." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to sound reasonable rather than desperate. "Tell me what the shooter said. Help me make sense of why someone tried to kill us today."
For a moment, I think I've gotten through to him. Something in his expression shifts, considering. Then it hardens again.
"No."
The flat refusal ignites my temper fully. "No? That's it? Just 'no'? After everything that's happened today—after what happened between us—that's all you have to say?"
"Enough." He turns away again. "This conversation is over."
"No, it's not!" I grab his arm without thinking, yanking him back to face me. "You don't get to walk away when things get uncomfortable. Not when my life is at stake too."
His gaze drops to my hand on his arm, then rises slowly to meet mine. The warning in his eyes is clear, but I don't release him. I'm tired of being managed, controlled, kept in the dark about matters that directly affect me.
"Let go of me, Caterina." His voice is deadly quiet.
I take a deep breath, and then I say the word. "No."
CHAPTER 23
Vito
"No."
The single word hangs between us, her defiance as clear as the hand still gripping my arm. I should be furious. I am furious. In my world, no one says no to me. Not my men, not my enemies, and certainly not the woman who will be my wife.
And yet, there's something magnetic about her rebellion—that unwavering fire that refuses to be extinguished despite everything. It's why I chose the bracelet, with its pattern reminiscent of eternal flames. Caterina Gallo burns even when she should be reduced to ash.
"No?" I repeat, my voice dangerously soft. "You're treading on thin ice, bambola."
Her eyes flash at the pet name, but she doesn't back down. "I don't care. I deserve answers."
I study her—the flush of anger coloring her cheeks, the determined set of her jaw, the slight tremble in her hand still clutching my sleeve. She's afraid, but pushing past it. Always pushing, always challenging.
"Let go of my arm," I say again, one final warning.
Her grip tightens instead. "Make me."
Something snaps inside me—control, reason, restraint, all swept away by the current of rage and desire that's been building since the church. Since before that, if I'm honest. Since the moment this fierce, impossible woman entered my life.
I move forward, backing her against the wall in one fluid motion. Her eyes widen in surprise, but there's no fear in them—only that same defiant fire that's haunted me for weeks.
"Is this what you want?" I demand, my face inches from hers. "To see what happens when you push me too far?"
Instead of answering, she does the unthinkable—she surges forward, closing the distance between us, her mouth crashing against mine with a hunger that matches my own.
For a heartbeat, I'm too shocked to respond. Then instinct takes over, and I'm kissing her back with all the pent-up fury and desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. There's nothing gentle about it—this is battle, not seduction. Teeth clash, hands grasp, her nails digging into my shoulders as mine tangle in her hair.
