Page 42 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)

Rina

The moment Sofia finishes showing me her bedroom—now decorated with her artwork and the personal touches that make it truly hers—I seize the opportunity I've been waiting for.

"Sof, can you grab those sketches you mentioned? The ones of the garden?" I ask, watching Vito and my mother disappear down the garden path through the window.

"Sure!" She bounces off the bed, excited to share more of her artistic progress.

I turn to Elena, keeping my voice low. "We need to talk. Now."

My cousin's dark eyes sharpen with understanding. "Sofia, sweetie," she calls, "why don't you bring your whole portfolio? The big leather one you showed me earlier."

"The one in the studio?" Sofia asks.

"Yes, that one."

"Okay!" Sofia darts from the room, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Elena immediately turns to me, moving closer. "What's going on? You look like you're about to combust."

"I need your help," I say, checking the doorway to ensure we're truly alone. "It's about the Irish."

Elena's expression shifts, wariness replacing curiosity. "What about them?"

"I need you to contact Liam." I grip her wrist, my urgency evident in the press of my fingers. "Tell him to call it off. Whatever they're planning against Vito—it needs to stop."

She stares at me, disbelief widening her eyes. "Are you serious? After everything you told me?"

"I know how it sounds?—"

"It sounds like Stockholm syndrome," she cuts in, voice harsh despite its low volume. "He's messed with your head, Rina."

"It's not that simple." I release her wrist, running a hand through my hair. "Things have... changed."

"Changed how?" Her gaze is piercing, uncomfortably perceptive. "What's he done to you?"

I can't bring myself to explain the intimacy that's developed between Vito and me—the way my body responds to his touch, the unexpected tenderness he sometimes shows, the complex emotions that tangle inside me whenever I'm in his presence.

"It doesn't matter," I deflect. "What matters is that I can't let them kill him."

Elena's eyes narrow. "You're sleeping with him."

Heat flushes my cheeks. "That's not?—"

"You are." She steps back, scrutinizing me. "Holy shit, Rina. You've fallen for him."

"I haven't fallen for anyone," I insist, though the protest sounds hollow even to my own ears. "This is about protecting my family."

"Your family is precisely why we made this arrangement with the Irish in the first place!" Elena hisses, glancing toward the doorway to ensure we're still alone. "To free you all from men like your father. Men like Vito."

"Vito isn't like my father." The defense comes automatically, surprising us both.

Elena stares at me in stunned silence before shaking her head slowly. "Listen to yourself. A few weeks ago you wanted him dead. Now you're defending him?"

"I'm not defending him," I protest, though the words ring false. "I'm just saying—the situation is more complicated than I initially thought."

"Complicated." She repeats the word with bitter amusement. "That's one way to put it."

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Look, I just need you to get a message to Liam. Tell him I want out of our arrangement."

Elena's laugh is sharp, cutting. "You think it's that easy? You promised yourself to him, Rina. In exchange for your father's death."

"Which Vito took care of instead."

"That doesn't matter to the Irish." She moves closer again, voice urgent. "Liam sees you as his property now. A prize Vito stole from him."

The phrasing sends a chill through me. "I'm not property."

"In their world—in this world we're both trapped in—that's exactly what you are." Her expression softens with genuine concern. "They're going to come for you, Rina. Whether I deliver your message or not."

Desperation claws at my chest. "There has to be a way to stop this."

"There isn't." Elena runs a hand through her hair, a gesture of frustration I've known since childhood.

"The Irish are using this as their excuse.

They've wanted to move against the Italians for years, and now they have the perfect pretext—avenging a dishonored agreement, reclaiming what they see as rightfully theirs. "

"Me," I say flatly.

"You. And everything that comes with you—territory, power, respect." She shakes her head. "This isn't about you anymore, Rina. It's bigger than that now. It's about who controls New York."

The scale of what I've inadvertently set in motion crashes over me like a wave. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I know." Elena's voice gentles. "You were desperate. We both were. Your father was a monster, and the Irish seemed like the only way out."

"And now I've created something worse." The irony is bitter on my tongue. "I've started a war."

"The war was always coming," Elena says with quiet certainty. "You just gave them the spark they needed."

I move to the window, watching Vito and my mother in the garden below. They sit together on a stone bench, engaged in what appears to be a serious conversation. My mother's face is animated in a way I haven't seen in years—free from the constant fear that dominated her life with my father.

And Vito... he's listening to her. Actually listening, with a respect I never witnessed my father show her. The sight stirs something complicated in my chest.

"What if I talk to Liam directly?" I suggest, turning back to Elena. "Explain the situation, negotiate some kind of truce?"

Her eyes widen with alarm. "Are you insane? If Vito found out you were meeting with Liam Costello, he'd?—"

"I know what he'd do," I interrupt. The thought of Vito's rage, his sense of betrayal if he discovered my connection to the Irish, sends ice through my veins. "But I have to try something."

"Rina." Elena grips my shoulders, forcing me to meet her gaze. "Listen to me. You can't fix this. The Irish are coming for Vito. They're coming for you. The best thing you can do is prepare."

"Prepare how?"

"Figure out which side you're really on." Her gaze is unflinching. "Because when this blows up—and it will—you'll have to choose. The man who killed your father, or the man you promised yourself to in exchange for that death."

The impossible choice looms before me like an abyss. "I can't let either of them have me," I whisper.

"Then you need an exit strategy." Elena glances toward the doorway, lowering her voice further. "I can help with that. Get you out of the country, set you up somewhere they can't find you."

"And leave my mother and Sofia behind?" I shake my head. "Never."

"Then you're trapped," she states bluntly. "Liam won't back down. Vito won't let you go. And you're caught in the middle."

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to quiet the panic rising in my chest. "There has to be another way."

"If you find one, let me know." Her tone softens with genuine regret. "I'll try to talk to Liam, but don't expect anything to change. They've been planning this too long."

"Thank you for trying," I say, gratitude mixing with dread. "Did you bring the burner phone?"

Elena shoots me a death glare, but places the device in my hand firmly.

I tuck it into my bra just as the sound of footsteps in the hallway alerts us to Sofia's return.

Elena squeezes my hand quickly. "Be careful, Rina.

Watch what you say, what you do. And for god's sake, don't let Vito know about any of this. "

"I won't," I promise, though guilt tugs at me. The growing connection between Vito and me feels tainted by the secret I'm keeping—a betrayal that predates our relationship but poisons it nonetheless.