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I waited and waited for the name Ryan to escape my sister’s lips.

It never did.

A clock ticked. Ice clinked in a tumbler glass. Cigar smoke hung in the air. And a certain distaste emanated from Salvatore sitting behind his desk.

I occupied a chair in front of it, leaning back with one elbow on the armrest. I was pretty sure he hated the way I sat like I was bored, so I’d continued to sit that way.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been in his office, remaining silent, while Salvatore smoked his cigar, but something was building, and it wasn’t from me. Truthfully, I enjoyed the atmosphere. I could survive on tense, awkward silences alone.

“You can’t have her.” The words cut the quiet like a knife through the air.

My gaze found Salvatore’s through a haze of smoke. “I didn’t say I wanted her.”

He let out a sardonic breath, shaking his head. “Cut the shit, Ace. I know you want Elena, and she’s not on the table.”

My jaw ticked. I did not like being told what I couldn’t fucking have. “I don’t think you get to tell me what’s on the table, Salvatore. You fucked me over.”

Technically, his daughter fucked someone, but it was the same thing in our eyes. He’d breached the contract.

Salvatore puffed on his cigar one last time, before contemplatively putting it out. “Elena isn’t a possibility, even if I wanted to give her to you.” His gaze came to me, showing me that he didn’t. “She’s engaged.”

I stared at him with indifference, while my chest twisted with aversion before going cold enough to burn.

I’d thought a lot about this situation, what I could get out of Salvatore for breaking the contract, what I wanted the most. It started with an E and had long black hair. It was also my vice.

I wanted it, but I couldn’t let myself have it.

Nonetheless, now that I knew she belonged to another man, something violent spread through my veins like an internal case of frostbite.

My irrational side began speaking for me. “Contract signed?”

Salvatore nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

I watched him closely. I bet after that little incident with the pool and me shoving Elena into it, he’d locked that man’s signature right down.

I had nothing against Salvatore, but there was something about sharing the same title with a man close to half his age he didn’t like. And I was fucking richer than him. He didn’t like how far my reputation stretched, and the details of said reputation. But after today, he knew he couldn’t afford to get on my bad side. We’d found the Mexicans involved with the drive-by, but there were still a few members that needed to be taken care of.

Frankly, I had more men on the streets than Salvatore. Even men on his, who I’d used to find the men responsible for today’s shooting. Salvatore hadn’t liked it when I’d used that card. I didn’t play by the rules, and the straight-laced don didn’t trust me. He needed me, though. I thought that was why he disliked me the most. He also just really didn’t want my Russo hands all over his favorite daughter.

“Who?” The question escaped me, and I fucking prayed he wouldn’t answer.

His gaze narrowed as he took a sip of whiskey. “Oscar Perez. Colombian.”

We stared at each other, and the cold bit into my chest.

“This problem with the Mexicans has fucked some of my connections with suppliers. Oscar has been an . . . acquaintance for a while. He has good product, but he wants Elena.”

Salvatore was trying to convince himself, it sounded like. Oscar was the kind of man the godly-rich with a twisted sense of ennui bred. Fitted with a malignant stain he’d try to rid with Elena.

I got up, buttoned my jacket, and turned to leave. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s late.”

“And Adriana?” he said as I opened the door.

I hadn’t shown much desire in getting revenge on the man who dared to fuck Nicolas Russo’s fiancée, but only because I’d been fighting the possibility of her sister.

“Her phone records. They’ve contacted each other,” I replied, before walking out.

I didn’t care so much about who Adriana had slept with while engaged to me.