Page 83

Time to play my final card.
Time to save the man I love.
Even if he hates me for it afterward.
"You were trained better than this," I tell Tomasso, voice steadier now. "We all were. And now you're going to help me fix it."
He straightens his tie, composed even with the red marks blooming on his cheeks. "Whatever you're thinking?—"
"The Fioris want power." I'm already pulling out my phone, fingers moving with purpose. "They want control. They want Stefano's empire. All of it."
"Which they'll get by controlling him," Tomasso points out.
"No." A cold smile crosses my face. "They'll get it by controlling his heir."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Ava, no. He'd never forgive me if I let you?—"
"You lost the right to protect his wishes when you left him behind." The words are cruel but necessary. "Now you're going to help me save him, or I swear to God I'll tell every family in Chicago how the great Tomasso ran while his boss fought alone."
Low blow, but it works. I see the moment he surrenders, shoulders slumping slightly.
"What's your play?"
"Simple." I dial my Fiori contact's number. "I offer them something more valuable than Stefano himself. Something that will give them control of his empire for generations."
"The baby," Tony whispers, horror in his voice.
"His heir." I correct. "The future of the Rega family. Along with every piece of intelligence I gathered while working at the club."
"They'll kill you both," Tomasso warns.
"No." My voice certain now. "They'll negotiate. Because that's what the Fioris do. They'll want to control us, not destroy us."
Even if I’m wrong, even if they just want to kill us all, it’ll still give me a way in. A chance to turn their game against them.
One last con.
One final play.
"Keep my brother safe," I tell Tomasso as I hit dial. "That's an order from your boss's wife."
The phone rings once, twice. I catch my reflection in the window—pale but determined. The face of a woman about to risk everything.
The face of someone with nothing left to lose.
The line connects, and a familiar voice answers—smooth, cultured, dangerous. "Ava. I was wondering when you'd call."
"Put him on." My voice comes out steady despite my racing heart. "I want proof he's alive."
"Demanding, for someone in your position." But I hear movement, muffled voices. Then, "Say hello to your wife, Stefano."
"Ava, don't." His voice is rough, pained, but alive. "Whatever they want, don't?—"
The sound of flesh hitting flesh makes me flinch, but I keep my voice level. "That's enough. Now listen carefully, because I'm about to offer you something much more valuable than just Stefano Rega."
"Oh?" The Fiori voice returns, interested despite its attempt at casualness. "And what might that be?"
"His heir."