Page 56

One of the things I bought for her in Dublin.
My body has a sharply aching response to that. I nearly pull over. Just to hold her.
I don’t.
We’re in the Titones’ neighbourhood now. We pass by the property I know belongs to Elio, then turn onto the drive that will take us to Vincenzo’s.
“I guess you didn’t need any directions,” Valentina says as we approach the gate. “I almost forgot you’ve been here once before”
“It’s been more than once.”
“Really? You had more than one meeting here?”
“Only one meeting.”
“Then how…”
We’re nearly at the gate. I don’t see a soldier in the booth ahead. Which is good, because it means no one’s going to be shooting at us before we even enter the property. I guess Elio really has commandeered all the men for Deirdre and Montréal.
Even more reason not to let Valentina stay here without me.
“Maybe I visited you in a dream.”
“A dream?” The flawless arches of her brows draw together over those skeptical golden-brown eyes. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that someone should move the patio furniture below your balcony.”
It was always far too easy to climb up to the Titone prinicpessa’s tower while she was sleeping.
I know she wants to ask me more, but we’re at the gate now, and without a soldier there’s no one to open it.
“It’s OK,” she says, undoing her seatbelt. “I know the code.”
“I don’t want you going out there.” Unease spikes along the back of my neck. “Tell me the code and I’ll do it.”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I can’t tell you the code.”
Too fucking smart. Even though Vinny’s dead, and Valentina’s in my car, and there’s nothing I want in that house now, she’s too clever to willingly give me something that could be used against her family.
She slips out of the car and does a hurried little jog-hop-walk thing that’s so fucking cute it should be illegal. She punches in a number on a security pad. When the gate rolls open, she walks through it instead of coming back to the car.
Instead of coming back to me.
For fuck’s sake.
I turn off the engine and abandon the vehicle, stalking through the open gate after her with long, angry strides.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, catching up to her. “We should have driven up to the house. That car has bulletproof windows.” I put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against my side, as I scan the sunlit property. Ahead, the house sprawls, big and beige, like a castle. There are trees, dense around the edge of the property, but they don’t offer us any protection where we are now. We’re in the middle of the driveway. Wide fucking open.
“What?” Valentina says, walking ahead once more. “It’s not like Mamma’s a sniper with the barrel of her gun aimed out the window at us right now.”
Goddamn. I haven’t even looked at the windows yet. I do so now, but I don’t see anything or anyone. None of the windows appear to be open.
“She’s your mammy, and she’s survived multiple decades married to your da,” I point out as we reach the top of the drive. “So she’s probably capable of just about anything.”
“Yeah, well. She hates guns. She thinks they’re crass.”
Crass they may be, but guns are what bought her this giant fairytale house.