Page 97 of Scarlet Vows

“I’ll take the name and do that myself, then.”

He holds up a hand. “Not so easy.”

I take another sip and wait.

“Now if there’s an unspoken…friendliness between your bratva and my mafia, then it can only be seen as a strengthening of mutual interests. Of sharing information and helping out when needed. But other than that, we do deals when it benefits both, and we keep to our own without interference from the others.”

On the surface, it’s the perfect answer, the explanation I want. And it also clarifies what he wants.

But the beauty of his lip service is that it also doesn’t clarify what he wants. It’s a bunch of vagaries that can be interpreted down the line, but the implicit warning is clear. If I brush him off, if he asks me to pay up, that’s going to be met by force and a souring of our ties. It could be met with war.

Bottom line is agreeing to work with Santo means a certain level of blindness from me and no clear terms. No clear terms is a bad move.

But still…

“You’ve got a deal.” I shake his hand.

There are no other options. I need this.

“Excellent,” he says. “Now you know I have my card. She can come in and take him out if we deem that necessary, orthere’s no other way. She can structure it in a way that benefits you and keeps me out of it.”

“She?”

“The female is more deadly. They just don’t use force like we do.” He taps his temple. “But first we pool what we have and go from there.”

I nod, and for the first time that evening, I relax my tight control on the vodka. I take a deeper swallow as we discuss the details of an attack.

Making it look like an unknown is a good idea. He wanted to target someone else. I think it needs to look like it’s an out of left field attack from an absolute unknown. That sort of thing will help decimate the status quo and make others shaky, too. If there’s an unknown, questions will arise such as: Who are the enemies? And who are the friends?

Santo likes the idea, and we build on it.

But then I stop. “We’re doing this wrong.”

His face turns thunderous.

I shake my head.

“What I mean,” I say, taking another sip, “is it shouldn’t be unknown until the very end. Early strikes can be unknown. We weaken them, shake them.”

“Which will up their defenses.”

It’s a gamble I’m willing to take. “Not if we strategically take out or just take his best. You have a skilled assassin who can help. Your part in it can remain silent, or not. I take the credit. Or we both can share that.”

“You take it.”

In the end, we work it out. Santo will supply weapons, as well as his assassin if needed, and unlimited manpower for a surge of resistance. He’ll supply intel on where to attack and when.

And my men will lead the final attack. Which allows me to take the advantage and take the credit for that attack.

After Santo leaves, I become aware of how this sits inside me. Like I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.

A soft knock sounds on the open study door, and I turn.

Alina stands there, soft, so fucking pretty and vulnerable in her dress. She’s unpinned her hair, removed her jewelry and makeup, and my heart thunders inside as I rise, smiling, simply because she’s here.

“I heard him leave. How did it go?”

My smile wants to slip, but I keep it in place like a mask as I round the desk and meet her as she steps inside.