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He's pushing me. He's really walking a thin line.

My nails burned into my palms, digging in to keep steady. I wanted to launch myself across the desk, clock him in the jaw, and hold my gun to his head. But I kept my cool the best I could.

“Right now, no, but that won't be forever. You owe us, we want our money, and until you give us what we want . . .” Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I let my teeth shine. “Your little toy is ours.”

“You took her—you took my Celia?”

“Celia? Who the fuck is Celia?”

“I gave her a new name, I didn't like the one she came with, especially after you said it. That is my property and I want it back.”

Remo remembered that night, it had stuck with him the same way it stuck with me. Except it was for completely different reasons. I remembered that night in the restaurant because of her, he remembered it because of me and our introduction.

He spoke about Ivy like she was bought at a store, like she wasn't even real. That went up my ass.

It shouldn't bother me, I shouldn't care for that fucking girl . . . But I did.

“Property? How do you turn a sweet girl into a piece of property?”

“That's none of your concern, just give her back.”

Grabbing a pen from the holder, I pressed the tip into one of my fingers. “Did you actually even pay her family?”

Grumbling under his breath, his head hung into his chest. “How many times do I have to tell you it's none of your fucking business?”

“Call it curiosity. Tell me, how did you get her? How did you find her?”

“Dante, you’re really starting to piss me off . . .” His jaw shot out, teeth grinding together so loudly I could hear the grit flaking off. “Her father actually owed me, but I compensated him well, paid him a good chunk to keep his head above water.”

Digging the end of the pen into my chin, I nodded. “Is he still above water?”

“For now.” Remo's hands shook against the table. Pressing his palms flat, his fingers separated and look like they were about to split off.

Plopping the pen back into place, I angled my head up. “Alright, you have two choices, Remo.”

“No,” he snapped, cocking his head up. “You have to return what's not yours.” His eyes danced inside his head, flashing with the true evil he held inside. “Give. Her. Back.”

“I don't remember telling you your options, let me finish.” Leaning into the desk, I met his buried threats head on. “One—you pay what you owe us, and I'll think about returning her to you. Two—you let me buy her from you, you let me take her off your hands, and then you pay my father so he doesn't kill you.”

“No.” Flapping his hand, he waved me away immediately. “Those are shit options, Dante, and I don't think your father agreed to them either.”

“It's because of you that we even have her, Remo. My father could give two shits about what happens to her, all he wants is what's his. And . . .” Pausing so he could let every word sink into his small useless excuse for a brain, I eyed him under heavy lids. “All I want is what's yours.”

“Don't you touch her, Dante. Do you know what I've done for your father? Do you know why I know he wouldn't dare keep what's mine?”

“I don't fucking care. What I do know is that without my father, without our business, you'd be done, Remo.” Slamming a finger into the desk, I leaned in closer. “What you did for him couldn't even stand up to what he's done for you. You're lucky he hasn't killed you yet.”

Remo's eyes lit up, his smile growing and pinning against his ears like he had earned it. “You're a pathetic excuse for a Pisani, your father would be infuriated if he saw the way you were talking to me.” Pushing his hands into the desk with all his weight, he shifted in his seat. “Give me back my Celia, Dante.”

“Well your Celia is now my Ivy. And let me tell you she tastes delicious, she's so sweet I can't get her flavor off my tongue.” Licking my lips, I winked and ran a finger under my nose, taking in a deep breath. “I think she's still there, you want to tell me if I'm right?” Holding out my hand, I bounced it in his face. “Do you smell her? Is that the scent you remember?”

“Don't you touch her, don't you lay a finger on her!” Remo jumped from his seat, his feathers all ruffled and red. I hit him where it hurt, just like I knew it would. “I want her back, she's mine, I paid a lot of money for her, Dante, too much for someone like you to taint her with even your smell. When I get her back she better not even have the faintest hint of you on her skin or I'll kill her right there.”

“Get our money and we'll talk. No money, no girl, it's that simple.”

His cheeks puffed up, turning cherry red, the steam practically pouring from his nostrils in waves of thick ocean fog. “If you even—”

Standing slowly, I snapped my back square, cutting him off. “If I even what?” Leaning over the desk, I laid my massive hands down. “What, Remo?”