Page 34 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)

Vito

Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, casting soft shadows across the sleeping form beside me.

Caterina's face is peaceful in sleep, the wariness and defiance that usually animate her features temporarily absent.

Her dark hair fans across the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.

I allow myself a moment to simply watch her, to memorize the details of this unguarded version of the woman who's become an unexpected complication in my carefully ordered world.

Last night changed things between us—not just the physical joining, but the aftermath. The vulnerability she showed. The questions she asked. The way she looked at me as I bathed her, as if seeing me for the first time.

And most tellingly, the lie she told when I asked about her connection to the Costellos.

I ease out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake her. She needs rest after yesterday's events. After what transpired between us. I move silently to the bathroom, closing the door before turning on the shower, my mind already working through the day's priorities.

The shooter. The Costello threat. The information Sullivan gave us before taking his own life. And now, this new puzzle: Caterina's possible connection to our Irish enemies.

As the hot water washes over me, I review what I know with the methodical precision that's kept me alive and in power.

Sullivan's message was clear: "You stole what didn't belong to you.

" His mention of Caterina too deliberate to be coincidental.

The timing of the attack, coming so soon after our engagement became public knowledge.

The conclusion is obvious, though the details remain obscured. Somehow, Liam Costello believes he has a claim on my fiancée. The question is why—and more importantly, whether Caterina is aware of or complicit in that claim.

Last night, I saw genuine fear in her eyes when I asked her directly. Not just the fear of a woman confronted with an uncomfortable truth, but something deeper. The fear of exposure. Of consequences.

I turn off the shower, dry off efficiently, and dress in a casual weekend ensemble—dark slacks and a light sweater, no tie. My phone buzzes with a text from Marco

Morning meeting in your office? Have updates.

Perfect timing.

With one last glance at Caterina's sleeping form, I exit the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. Antonia is already moving about the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

"Good morning, Don," she greets me, her eyes carefully avoiding any indication she knows what happened in the dining room last night. The broken crystal and china have been cleared away, everything restored to perfect order. "Breakfast?"

"Just coffee for now. I'll be in my office with Marco."

She nods, pouring me a cup before returning to her preparations. "And for Miss Gallo when she wakes?"

"Let her sleep. When she does wake, make sure she eats something substantial."

"Yes, Don."

I take my coffee and head to my office. Marco is already waiting outside the door, scrolling through his phone with his usual focused intensity.

"Boss," he greets me, following me inside. "How are you feeling after yesterday's excitement?"

The subtle inquiry speaks volumes. Marco is one of the few people who would dare to ask, however obliquely, about my well-being.

"Fine." I set my coffee down and take a seat behind my desk. "What updates do you have?"

He sits across from me, pulling out his tablet. "Autopsy confirmed cyanide as the cause of Sullivan's death. The capsule was professionally installed—not something he could have done himself. This was planned."

"The Costellos expected him to be captured," I observe. "They ensured he wouldn't talk beyond delivering their message."

"Exactly." Marco nods. "Which suggests the attack itself wasn't the primary objective. If they'd wanted you dead, they would have sent more men, better equipped."

"It was a message delivery, as we suspected." I lean back, considering. "What about our surveillance on the Irish operations?"

"We've doubled coverage on all their known locations. If they so much as sneeze, we'll know about it." Marco's efficiency is one of his most valuable qualities. "Mickey's been unusually active, meeting with several of the other Irish families. Unusual for him to leave his compound so frequently."

"And Liam?"

"That's where it gets interesting." Marco taps his tablet, bringing up surveillance photos. "He's been meeting with someone outside their usual circle. We haven't identified him yet, but he's not one of their regular associates."

I examine the grainy images. The unknown man is partially obscured in most of them, his face never fully visible. "Keep on this. I want to know who he is and what he's bringing to the table."

"Already on it." Marco hesitates, which is unusual for him. "There's something else. Regarding Miss Gallo."

I keep my expression neutral, though my interest sharpens. "Go on."

"The background check we ran before was thorough, but focused primarily on her father's connections, her finances, her public movements. Standard procedure for vetting a potential Donna."

"And?"

"I've been thinking about Sullivan's message. If there's a connection between Miss Gallo and the Costellos, it wouldn't necessarily show up in our initial investigation. Not if it was personal rather than business."

The same conclusion I'd reached in the shower. "I want a deeper look. More... intimate."

Marco nods, understanding my meaning without requiring elaboration. "Her time at NYU would be a good starting point. Who she knew, who she associated with. The Italian and Irish communities overlap more on campus than they do in our world."

"Do it discreetly." I take a sip of my coffee, considering my next words carefully. "I don't want her to know we're looking."

"Understood." Marco studies me for a moment. "May I speak freely, boss?"

I nod once, curious what he's noticed.

"If there is a connection between Miss Gallo and the Costellos, especially Liam... how do you want to handle it?"

The question hangs in the air between us. How indeed? Twenty-four hours ago, the answer would have been simple: swift, decisive action to eliminate any threat, regardless of who posed it. But now, after what transpired between us last night...

"Let's determine the nature of the connection first," I say finally. "Then I'll decide."

Marco accepts this with a nod, though I catch the slight furrow of his brow. He's worked with me long enough to notice the deviation from my usual approach.

"There's another angle we could pursue," he suggests after a moment. "The Costellos don't know how much Sullivan told us before he died. We could use that uncertainty to our advantage."

"How?"

"Public appearances with Miss Gallo. The engagement is already known, but if you were seen together more openly—restaurants, events, the usual venues for a couple of your status—it might provoke a reaction. Draw out whoever they're working with."

I consider the strategy. It's sound, though not without risk. "You think they'd make another move?"

"If they believe their message wasn't delivered clearly enough? Possibly." Marco leans forward slightly. "And if there is a personal connection between Miss Gallo and someone in their organization, seeing her publicly aligned with you might force their hand."

"Using her as bait," I observe, surprisingly uncomfortable with the idea despite its tactical merit.

"Using the perception of your relationship as bait," Marco corrects carefully. "Miss Gallo herself would be under your protection at all times."

I drum my fingers on the desk, weighing options. "Arrange it. An outing somewhere suitably visible. Tomorrow."

"Consider it done." Marco makes a note on his tablet.

"And Marco?" I pause, choosing my words with care. "The deeper investigation into Caterina's past... I want you to handle it personally. Not the usual team."

He looks up, his expression revealing nothing but professional interest. "Any particular reason?"

"She's to be my wife," I say simply. "Whatever you find should remain between us."

The real reason is more complex. If Caterina has indeed been involved with the Costellos in some way—if she's been playing both sides—I want to control who knows about it and how it's handled. The fewer people aware of a potential betrayal by my future Donna, the better.

"Understood." Marco rises, his expression thoughtful. "I'll start immediately. And I'll have the dinner arrangements confirmed within the hour."

"Thank you." I stand as well, signaling the end of our meeting. "Keep me updated on any developments with the Irish surveillance."

"Of course." He moves toward the door, then pauses. "Boss? If I may?"

I raise an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

"Whatever connection might exist between Miss Gallo and the Costellos... there are always explanations. Not all of them involve betrayal."

The observation is unexpected coming from Marco, who typically views all relationships through the lens of strategy and potential threat.

"Your point?"

"Only that Miss Gallo's background—her father's treatment of her mother, the circumstances of your introduction—might have led to desperate choices. Choices made before she knew you."

I study him, suddenly curious. "You sound almost sympathetic, Marco. That's unlike you."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "I'm capable of nuance, boss. And I've observed Miss Gallo. She's... not what I expected."

"In what way?"

"She has spine. Principles. She challenges you rather than cowering or manipulating." He shrugs slightly. "Qualities that might make for a strong Donna, under the right circumstances."

The assessment surprises me, though I don't show it. Marco has always been professionally courteous to Caterina, but I hadn't realized he'd formed such a specific opinion of her character.

"Noted." I keep my tone neutral. "Thank you, Marco."

After he leaves, I remain standing by my desk, contemplating our conversation.

Marco's observations about Caterina echo my own impressions—her strength, her defiance, her refusal to be cowed even in the face of overwhelming power differential.

Qualities that would indeed make for a formidable Donna, if properly aligned with the family's interests.

The question is whether those qualities are currently aligned against me.

The memory of last night surfaces unbidden—Caterina's vulnerability as I washed her hair, the trust implicit in her allowing me to care for her after her first time, the way she asked me to stay rather than leave her alone with her thoughts.

Those are not the actions of someone plotting against me.

Or at least, not someone solely focused on my destruction.

But humans are complex, contradictory creatures. It's entirely possible for Caterina to be physically drawn to me, even emotionally engaged to some degree, while still maintaining other loyalties, other plans.

I need to know the truth—all of it—before I determine how to proceed.

The soft sound of movement from the hallway alerts me to Caterina's awakening. I move to the office door, opening it to find her padding toward the kitchen, still in her pajamas from last night, hair tousled from sleep.

She pauses when she sees me, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Good morning."

"Good morning." I study her, looking for signs of regret or calculation in her expression. I find only slight awkwardness, a hint of shyness that's oddly endearing. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, actually." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the silver bracelet catching the light as she does. "Better than I have in a while."

"Good." I step aside, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Antonia has breakfast ready whenever you are."

She nods, moving past me, her scent—a mix of the lavender oil from last night's bath filling my senses. "Thank you for..." She trails off, seemingly unable to articulate exactly what she's thanking me for.

"You're welcome," I reply simply, understanding the unspoken sentiment.

She continues toward the kitchen, and I watch her go, my mind already working through the various possibilities Marco's investigation might uncover. Whatever the truth is about Caterina Gallo and her connection to the Costellos, I will discover it.

And when I do, I'll have to decide which matters more: the principle of absolute loyalty I've demanded all my life, or the unexpected, reluctant affection growing for the woman who may have betrayed me before she even knew me.