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Now that they had joined forces, The Santino Crime Family was stronger and more powerful than ever.

And I loved both of them.

And I would be lying if I said I didn’t envy them. I could (and often did) listen to them talk about what they did all day.

When I first met Rome, all I did was pester her to tell me stories about her life, what she had done, how she had done it. I probably annoyed her a little at first, following her around like an enamoured child desperate to get some second-hand excitement from her experiences.

“No sign of his bike, his car, or him inside the studio?”

My ears perked up.

“Which studio?”

“Graze Ink,” Sammy offered up freely, and I shoved a roast potato in my mouth to hide the smirk that would have stretched my lips if they were free.

I nodded casually, continuing to push food around my plate and acting wholly uninterested in the rest of the conversation. Nobody said anything, nobody seemed to clock the fact that I had asked the question.

Except for Rome.

When I looked up again, my sister-in-law was staring straight through me with her arms crossed. I quickly cast my eyes back down to my plate, pretending not to notice the way that she was trying to convey the silent warning of,“Whatever you’re up to, stop it.”

I didn’t have to pretend to be uninterested in the rest of the conversation, because my mind was busy with possibilities. Now I knew where this man livedandwhere he worked. Perhaps it was my turn to do a little light stalking.

Once Rome had moved on from glaring at me, I looked towards Livie with pursed lips. She was a bit of a tech-genius. If I could somehow convince her to get me his information, I could make this man’s life a living hell.

An unconscious smile stretched onto my mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” Sammy frowned at me.

“Hmm?” I blinked back into the present moment. “Oh. Uh, just an idea for the shop.”

He was satisfied by this answer.

Rome shot me an unbelieving look.

“Oh yes, that bloody shop,” Mum rolled her eyes, trying to spoon a heaping serving of peas onto Eliza’s plate without the toddler noticing the addition. “Honestly, Bambina, you could be doing much better things with your time rather than playing retail worker.”

“Mum,” Antoni scolded.

“What?” she held up her hands in defence.

“I don’tplayretail worker,” I frowned. “I run a business.”

“Yes. Yes, I know,” Mum sighed, obviously not believing the words. “I’m just saying, you are wasting your youth.”

“She is not,” Valerie cut in, half asleep. “We are proud of what Zarina does with the shop. You never had a problem with me working, why her?”

“Because it is an entirely different situation. You had a whole career. If you had done nothing but got married you would have wasted your smarts. I do not want to see Zarina waste her?—”

“You don’t think I’m smart?” I leaned back in my chair.

Mum stuttered, eyes flickering between Valerie and me and searching for words.

“Zarina, that is not what?—”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I straightened, pushing my plate away. “You think Val getting married young would’ve been a waste because she is smart. You thinkmeputting off getting married will be a waste because pretty much all I have to offer is my looks. And they will only fade as I get older. Right?”

“Of course not,” Valerie answered for our mother, shooting her a deathly glare while reaching for my hand.