Page 20 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)
An hour passes before I'm certain Vito is truly asleep. His breathing is deep and regular, his body relaxed beside me. I wait another thirty minutes just to be safe, then carefully, inch by inch, I slide out from under the covers.
The penthouse is silent and dim as I make my way to my room to retrieve my hidden phone and then to the kitchen. I need a believable excuse if anyone catches me—a glass of water, a midnight snack. But the main living area is deserted. Even Dante, who often keeps late hours, is nowhere to be seen.
I dial Elena's number with trembling fingers. It rings three times before she answers, her voice hushed.
"Rina? Is that you?"
"Yes," I whisper, glancing nervously toward the hallway.
"Are you okay? Did he find out about the phone?"
"I think so, but he hasn't said anything directly." I take a deep breath. "Did Liam contact you? Did he get my message?"
"Oh, he got it all right." Elena's voice turns grim. "That's why I've been trying to reach you. The Irish are furious, Rina. Not just Liam—his father too."
My stomach drops. "What are they saying?"
"They're saying Vito kidnapped you, that you were supposed to be engaged to Liam as part of some deal between your families. Mickey's telling everyone who'll listen that Vito stole what was rightfully theirs." She pauses. "Mickey's planning to move against him, Rina. Soon."
"Move how? What are they planning?"
"I don't have details, but it's big. Word is they're going to take him out and 'reclaim' you." I can hear her air quotes. "They're spinning it as some romantic rescue mission, but we both know that's bullshit. You're just property to them—valuable property in a turf war."
The harsh truth stings, but she's right. I'm not a person to either side—I'm an asset, a bargaining chip, a symbol of power.
"So they're going to kill Vito," I say flatly.
"That's the plan, from what I've heard. Mickey's called in people from Boston, Philly, even Chicago. He's serious about this, Rina." Elena's voice softens. "When it happens, you need to be ready. You'll have a small window to decide where you stand."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, once Vito's out of the picture, the Irish will come for you. You can go with them willingly—honor your deal with Liam—or you can run. I'll help you if that's what you want."
The choice she's presenting turns my blood cold. Stay with Liam, who I never wanted in the first place, or run and have both Italian and Irish mobs hunting me for the rest of my life.
"When?" My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"Soon. Days, not weeks." Elena hesitates. "Rina, be honest with me. Do you want Vito dead?"
The question catches me off guard. A week ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. But now...
"I should," I finally say. "After what he did to my father, after forcing me into this engagement, I should want him gone."
"But?" Elena knows me too well.
"But it's not that simple anymore." I press my forehead against the cool kitchen counter. "He's not what I expected, Elena. He's controlled, calculating, sometimes even cruel, but there are moments when I see something else. Something almost human."
"Stockholm syndrome is a hell of a drug," she mutters.
"It's not that." I straighten, annoyed by the suggestion. "I still hate what he did. I still want my freedom. But I'm not sure trading one cage for another is the answer."
"Then what is?"
"I don't know yet." I hear a soft sound from elsewhere in the penthouse and freeze. "I have to go. Someone's coming."
"Be careful, Rina. Whatever you decide, be smart about it."
"I will. Thank you." I hang up quickly, grabbing a glass and filling it with water just as Dante appears in the doorway.
"Little late for hydration, princess," he says, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Couldn't sleep." I take a sip, hoping he didn't hear any of my conversation.
He glances at the phone, then back to me. "Boss know you're wandering around?"
"He's asleep." I move to leave, glass in hand. "And I'm heading back now."
Dante blocks my path, his expression serious for once. "Word of advice? Don't play both sides in a war. Nobody wins that game."
My blood runs cold. How much did he hear?
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He steps aside, letting me pass. "Sweet dreams, princess."
I hurry back to Vito's bedroom, heart pounding. To my relief, he appears to be still sleeping, his body in the same position I left him. I slide carefully back into bed, setting my water glass on the nightstand.
As I lie in the darkness, Elena's question echoes in my mind. Do I want Vito dead?
The answer should be simple. He killed my father. He forced me into this engagement. He controls every aspect of my life now.
But when I imagine him gone—Liam in his place, or worse, being passed around as a prize in the inevitable power struggle that would follow—my chest tightens painfully.
Vito is cold, demanding, occasionally cruel, but there's an order to his world, a strange sense of security in his iron control.
He hasn't hurt me physically. He's allowed me contact with my family.
He even gave me a taste of freedom today, however brief.
And there are moments—rare, fleeting moments—when something passes between us that feels almost like understanding. Like recognition. Like we're two people shaped by the same harsh world, playing roles we never asked for but have learned to inhabit perfectly.
I turn onto my side, facing away from him, and close my eyes. The Irish are coming for him. Coming for me. Days, not weeks. And I have a choice to make.
Warn him and betray Liam, potentially trapping myself permanently in this gilded cage.
Or stay silent, let events unfold, and trade one cage for another—with no guarantee the next one will be any less confining.
I've spent my life caught between powerful men and their ambitions. My father. Vito. Liam. Each one seeing me as a means to an end, a piece to be played in their games of power.
Perhaps it's time I started playing my own game.
Sleep comes eventually, but my dreams are filled with blood and broken promises, and a pair of dark eyes that see too much.