Page 77 of Forging Caine

“No, Ms. Caine.” A corner of Fiori’s mouth twitched. “We’re not done.”

Another bodyguard hovered too close to Samantha, preventing her from moving her chair any further. The two behind Fiori and Baptiste moved closer to them, flanking the Corsican men.

“I have more jobs for you.” Fiori lifted one finger, and the man behind him withdrew a thick envelope from his pocket and placed it in front of me. “I know we didn’t discuss the actual terms of payment, but I’m sure you’ll find I’m very generous. And I need the same input on four other pieces.”

I couldn’t let him pull me in further. That would be the end of me. “I’m sorry, Pasquale, but I have a job.”

“Didn’t you say you were heading on vacation? I’m sure it won’t take you more than a couple of weeks.” This was the same tone my uncle used all the time. It sounded like kind words, but it was a commandment.

“What if I say no? You’ll have your men hurt me?”

“Hurt you? I thought we were friends, Antonio.” He acted as though my words injured him. “No, I would simply look for a way to convince you to say yes.”

I twisted my head toward Samantha, who’d planted her feet firmly. She was ready to run or fight, whichever was needed. Cristian’s words from January came back to me.She’s a liability. It’s clear you’d do anything if someone took her.

Instead of keeping her safe, I’d marched her into the viper’s den, thinking they wanted her brain. When all they wanted was her as leverage.

Without taking my eyes off her, I said, “If you promise you’ll leave my family alone, I’ll do these jobs for you.”

“Antonio.” Samantha began to stand, but the man pressed down on her shoulder.

Was there even a job? Or was it only revenge against Zio Gio? “Leave her out of this.”

Fiori’s hand landed on my crossed forearms. “Honesty is a rare commodity these days. Antonio Ferraro, you’re the only one who’s told me the truth, regardless of whether you thought I’d be happy with it or not.”

“Samantha and I have not lied—”

He squeezed. Not threateningly, but as though it were a mark of support. “Don’t start lying to me now.”

Baptiste’s gaze left us, rising over my shoulder and the building, to the sky in the distance. Then I heard helicopter blades slicing through the air. Not uncommon in this area, where many tours ran out over the river.

Fiori nodded to someone past Samantha and a fifth man appeared, carrying a black wand, only a foot long. He ran it along her side.

“This is how you treat friends, Pasquale?” She inched forward on her seat, making it look as though she were squirming under the one who held her in place.

The helicopter grew louder and my eyes cast about the restaurant patrons. Some looked at us as the bodyguards closed in, while others pointed toward where Baptiste watched.

“Enough, Pasquale.” I sat up straighter, fighting the urge to ram a shoulder into the man who’d touched Samantha.

“Try the purse,” said Baptiste.

Samantha lunged forward and grabbed her bag. “I’ve had enough of your hospit—”

The guard snatched her bag and emptied its contents onto the table, her wallet, phone, and key fob spilling out along with lip gloss and some scraps of paper.

As I attempted to stand, a giant hand landed on my shoulder. I grabbed the wrist, twisted at my waist, and pulled his balance forward. My body turned from Samantha and I heard something smash on the table.

“That’s not a key, Ms. Caine,” whispered Fiori.

No, no, no.

They knew.

Fiori’s guard was next to me, his knee connecting with my shoulder, and I recoiled into the guard who’d been behind me.

Another smash—this time on the ground near Samantha—and she grunted.

“Leave her—”

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