“Gianna—”

She left me standing there.

As much as it pissed me off that she’d jumped so fast to think the worst of me, I let her have her anger, because it was what she needed right now.

The Catholic ceremony was long and a little melodramatic. Gianna hadn’t said a word to me since she’d taken a seat on the pew beside me. Not a single joke or insult. I didn’t like it.

She stared out the window and stayed silent on the way to her papà’s house. When this was over, I was going to force her to talk to me for two hours straight before she got her orgasm.

One of her cousins, who Gianna had called “Guccio,” and who couldn’t be more than a teenager, answered the door and led us to her father’s office.

Guccio avoided my gaze. “He wants to, uh, talk to you alone, Gianna.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

I grabbed her wrist when she took a step toward the door. “You don’t have to go in there alone.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll try to make it quick so you two will have plenty of time to talk business afterward.” Her eyes flashed with resentment.

My jaw tightened, but I let her go.

She shut the door behind her.

Guccio rubbed a fist in his hand, shifting his weight to his other foot. “You can wait in the parlor.”

“I’ll wait here.”

He swallowed. “The parlor would be preferable.”

I sent him a look that let him know he was annoying the fuck out of me. He muttered, “Okay,” and drifted away. Standing by the door, I could hear their muffled voices inside.

“You move fast, Gianna,” Saul said. “Didn’t your husband just pass a week ago?”

“A week and a half,” she corrected.

“Don’t get smart with me, girl. Were you trying to make me look like a fool today?”

“I have no idea how I would make you look like a fool.”

“That dress . . . showing up with a man like Allister—it makes you look like a goddamn whore.”

She let out a bitter noise. “I was a whore to you when I was ten years old wearing my pink church dress. That word is a little worn out, Papà. Can’t you think of something a little original?”

“I see your lavish life in New York has spoiled you.” Some papers shuffled. “No matter. I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be beat out of you. From what I remember, you were always too easy to break. Tell me, are you still afraid of the dark?”

Silence.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought. We don’t need to discuss such . . . matters right now. Do you think Allister will marry you?”

That amused her. “No. I don’t.”

She sounded so fucking sure it made me want to drag her to the courthouse right now.

“What do you think, Donny?” Saul addressed his right-hand man, who must be in the room.

“I don’t think so, boss.”

“Then I’m sure he won’t care that you’re moving back to Chicago,” said Saul. “Once you’re settled, we’ll talk about arranging a marriage for you. It’s about time you have children, Gianna. You’re almost past your prime.”

“As much as I appreciate the genuine concern in your voice—no. No to moving. No to the marriage. And no to fucking a man of your choosing.”

Good girl.

A hand slapped on a desk. “You have a duty to this family, dammit!”

“Duty?” She scoffed. “What have you ever done for me? You sure as hell didn’t protect your eight-year-old daughter from one of your sick-minded friends!”

Thick silence crept under the door.

I knew at that moment, when he didn’t try to play her accusation off, that he hadn’t known. And it was the only thing that would save his life.

“I clothed you, I fed you—”

“Basically, the bare minimum of keeping someone alive. We get it, Papà—you were an outstanding father.”

“You ungrateful bitch,” he spat.

Her voice shook with emotion. “You know, I feel sorry for you. You were obsessed with Mamma, and she hated you. She hated you so much, she risked running from you again, and again, and again—”

I moved at the sound of a chair slamming against the wall and pushed open the door. My voice was unnaturally calm. “Take your hand off her now.”

Saul held her by the face, his fingers digging into her cheeks. His jaw tightened but he released her, stepped back, and then brushed off his sleeve.

I didn’t look at her—couldn’t look at her—because if there was a single red mark on her skin I’d snap.

“Get out, Gianna,” I said.

She hesitated.

“Out.”

As she headed toward the door, Donny looked to Saul to see if he should let her pass. Saul nodded tightly. Donny shut the door and stood beside it.

Saul sat back in his chair and adjusted some papers on his desk, as if he hadn’t just been caught assaulting his daughter. “Have a seat, Allister. It’s been a while since we’ve chatted.”

I’d never chatted with the man in my life. Never worked with him either. I was only an acquaintance of his through Antonio. And I’d only ever agreed to work with Antonio—an Italian, no less—because I was obsessed with his wife.

I remained standing. “I don’t know how I can make this any shorter and sweeter for you—Gianna doesn’t exist for you anymore.”

“You say that as if you have a claim on her, Allister. Remember, I’m the one who put her on this goddamn planet.”

“Did you? From what I’ve heard, someone else fucked your wife harder than you.”

Red washed his complexion. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

“I’m afraid it might be too late for that.”

Our gazes burned into the other’s.

“You want my daughter? Fine, you can have her. Just don’t come crying to me when you find her fucking your repairman. I’m afraid she takes after her mother in that regard.”

The man was so fucking bitter he stunk of it. But there was something else there—guilt. The boss was getting older and his conscience was filling up. He was just too twisted to know how to apologize and, instead, ended up choking out his daughter instead.

“I’ll take my chances.”

When I passed his underboss, a single pop ricocheted off the walls as I pulled out my .45 and shot him in the arm. He hissed in pain and slid down the wall.

Saul’s jaw was tight, but he only arched a brow.

“That’s because you touched her.” I put my gun away and opened the door. “Every time you touch something that belongs to me, I’ll fuck up something of yours.”

THE POP THAT CUT THROUGH the air sent a shard of ice through my heart.

As soon as Christian stepped into the parlor where I’d been pacing, relief sank beneath my skin and stole my breath.

My pulse raced.

My eyes burned.

The anger, the relief, the fear of this twisted family reunion—it all exploded. I strode toward him and shoved him. He didn’t budge an inch, and that only made me angrier. A tear slipped down my cheek.

“You’ve been working with my papà!” I accused.