Page 56 of Ruined Secrets

A man in his late fifties starts heading our way from across the room, a woman in her early thirties on his arm.

“Franco Conti. Second wife, Ava,” Isabella says into her glass.

One of the capos who’s in charge of laundering the money from gambling, I recall.

“Damian said you haven’t met his wife yet. She wasn’t at our wedding,” Isabella adds before they reach us.

“Franco.” I nod. “I see you finally decided to let us meet your wife.”

After the introductions, Isabella starts chatting with Ava while Franco stands beside me, watching the crowd.

“I’m concerned about Angelo,” he says. “I’m not sure he’s fit for the role you gave him.”

“Why?”

“Numbers are not his forte.”

I look around at the grounds, pretending that I’m thinking about what he said while I’m trying to filter through the plethoraof information in my brain. Who the fuck is Angelo? I squeeze Isabella’s waist lightly.

“Angelo Scardoni is here?” she exclaims next to me. “I wanted to ask him about Bianca and how she’s doing with being married into the Bratva.”

Oh, yes. The youngest capo whose sister married the Bratva’s enforcer a few months back. I forgot his name.

“He will have to learn,” I say, having no idea what role I assigned him. It probably has something to do with the money laundering.

“Did you talk with Lorenzo?” Franco asks.

“About?”

“He was extremely... unhappy when you vetoed his drug business idea.”

From what Damian told me, we have never dealt in drugs. Damian mentioned that Angelo Scardoni’s father tried something behind the old don’s back, and it didn’t end well. I can’t recall all the details. “Lorenzo’s happiness is not my concern,” I say.

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

I turn to him, making certain my face shows what I think of his impromptu question.

“I apologize, Boss.” Franco quickly looks down.

“If you overhear Lorenzo mentioning his idea again, to anyone, you will let me know.”

“Of course.” He nods and takes his wife’s arm. “I’m glad to see that you’re well. The Family was worried.”

“They have no reason to be.”

When Franco and his wife leave, I look down at Isabella and find her holding her phone, texting someone. I step behind her, wrap both of my arms around her waist, and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Who are you texting?”

She looks at me sideways, her eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Is it a male someone?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t text any men unless they are related to you by blood.” I lightly squeeze my arms around her and growl into her ear. “Or I’ll kill them, Isabella.”

“Jealous?” Her lips curl in a barely visible smile.

“You have no idea how much.”

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