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“Your mother,” I repeated, words tumbling out in a messy avalanche. “Carlotta.”

He froze. The saying ‘deer in the headlights’ — that was Angelo right now. Frozen like one of those statues in graveyards, carved out of marble and then weathered and greyed. His skin had even turned pale.

“I was supposed to meet with an Italian designer I admire, Bassiano Torsiello.” Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I tried to ignore the anxiety I felt when thinking about it, quickly explaining my business situation. “I’d been excited that someone of Bassiano’s caliber would want to meet me, but it wasn’t him. Obviously.” He nodded, encouraging me to continue. “Carlotta was there, and I was confused.”

“Go on,” he encouraged. He’d moved away from me now like I’d wanted, his movements stiff and angry. “Then what happened?”

“I caught on pretty quickly that it had all been a setup. There had been no meeting with Bassiano. She had some things to say aboutour arrangement. She threatened Polina. I wasn’t even sure that she knew who Polina was.” I skipped over that part and rushed on at the sour look on Angelo’s face. “Then she brought up Renzetti. Then she called in the goons and said something about Salvatore owing her.”

The silence that followed was glacial. His face didn’t change, but the temperature in the room dropped by about thirty degrees.

I pressed my lips together. “I didn’t get a chance to tell anyone before. I was, you know, bleeding out.” That was probably an exaggeration. “Then you were gone. But I figured I should tell you first. I thought you’d want to hear it privately. I know you’re …” I trailed off. I knew nothing about him, so I didn’t bother continuing.

The cold rage rolling off him was suffocating. “She sold you out.” He turned away, hands fisting at his sides. “I’ll kill her when I find her. She’s dead. I swear it.”

“Yeah, well. That’s a fun family reunion idea.” My fingers curled in the blanket, aching to comfort him but knowing it wouldn’t be welcome. I was sure the news that his motherwas back in the picture and hanging out with the evil villain of the story wasn’t what he had wanted to hear. Still, it was information he needed to know.

He turned back around, and for a second, I thought he might punch a hole through the wall. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“I didn’t know,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I swear to God, Theo. I had no idea where she’s been since she left, and I haven’t cared, but it never occurred to me that she would be a danger to you.”

“I wasn’t sure if maybe you’d be glad I was gone. Out of the picture.” The admission was hard to make, but I couldn’t hold it back.

He looked up, and there was such violent grief in his eyes that it knocked the wind out of me. “Never.”

I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. I wanted to scream, cry, and tear out the stitches to make someone else feel how much it all hurt. But instead, I reached for the only armor I had left—sarcasm.

“Well, at least if I got shot, Renzetti had good taste in dresses. I was wearing Versace.It wasn’t the same as wearing clothes I made, but …” I attempted a shrug as if it was all a joke.

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “It was Dior.”

“Shows what you know.”

He reached out, but this time, he didn’t touch me. He just hovered as if he didn’t trust himself. “You’re safe now.”

“Am I? Seems like this is one of the worst places I could end up.” He didn’t answer. The silence stretched. Comfortable, then unbearable. “I don’t know what to do here,” I admitted. “What to say.”

He gave me a small, sad smile. “Join the club. Well, go over what Carlotta said again. Maybe there is some clue there. Then, I’ll go fill your brothers in.”

I did as he asked, watching him carefully as I related the encounter. Somewhere over Kentucky, I closed my eyes. Not because I was tired but because I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Perhaps it was partly the pain pill that made me drowsy, but this way felt easier — his handsome face hidden behind my eyelids.

And in the quiet, I let myself want him—for just one breath. Just one heartbeat.

Then I locked it away again.

Because wanting Angelo Santelli would only ever end in pain.

And I was all out of bandages.

CHAPTER 19

ANGELO

The jet’shum was a steady thrum beneath my boots, the vibration resonating through the floor as I stood at the edge of the back cabin. Theodosia lay curled under a blanket, her frame too small and fragile against the sheets. Bruises colored her skin, fading now but not quickly enough for my liking.

She should never have been in that position. Should never have been in Renzetti’s hands.

I watched her sleep, her breath soft and even, chest rising and falling in a rhythm I memorized the moment they wheeled her out of surgery. The plane swayed slightly in turbulence, but she didn’t stir. She was exhausted, likely drugged on painkillers and fury. Evenhalf-dead, she still managed to hurl insults and try to walk herself out of the hospital. Classic Theo.