Page 82 of Shadows of Steel

Mario chuckles, low and knowing. “That’s more like it.”

Leonardo smirks over the rim of his glass, taking a sip before setting it down with ease. “Oh, don’t worry, zio. My tongue is put to exquisite use, some might even call it a refined skill.” His smirk deepens, laced with wicked amusement. “But out of deference to your wife, I’ll forgo the more… salacious details.”

I arch a brow, my gaze turning frigid, but before I can speak, I follow his gaze, just as Harlow steps onto the terrace. The moment she appears, my attention is hers.

It’s not just the way she moves, it’s the effortless command she holds over a room, the way she bends space and attention to her without even trying. The soft glow of light dances over her skin, catching in the dark waves of her hair, gilding every strand. The dress she wears drapes over her figure like it was made for her, flowing over her curves with an elegance that borders on sinful.

I should be accustomed to it by now, the way she draws every gaze, the quiet gravity she possesses.

But I’m not.

And when I catch Mario’s glance flicking toward her, Leonardo’s smirk curving at the edges of his mouth, something sharp coils in my chest. Possessive. Primal. Dark.Irrational.

She is mine.

And the fact that I have no control over this visceral reaction she evokes in me? That is what unsettles me most.

I rise as she approaches, the soft scrape of my chair against stone punctuating the moment. Harlow barely has time to register the movement before I pull out her seat, waiting as she lowers herself into it. Her gaze lifts to mine, and I hold it, as I push her chair in slowly.

Mario smirks over the rim of his glass, amusement flickering in his eyes. Leonardo exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. I level them both with a look that would send lesser men to an early grave.

Harlow doesn’t miss the exchange. Her sharp gaze flicks between us, laced with curiosity.

She leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “What exactly have I just walked into?”

Leonardo smirks. “Nothing of concern. Merely business.”

Harlow lifts a brow, unimpressed. She doesn’t call him out on the lie, just lets the silence stretch.

I reach for the bottle, pouring wine into a glass before sliding it in front of my wife. She inclines her head in acknowledgment, fingers wrapping around the delicate stem as she takes a sip, the deep red staining her lips before she speaks.

“Oh?” She exhales softly, tilting her head. “So, I assume the three of you have been discussing how best to dispose of someone?”

A brief silence lingers. Then, smirking, she lifts her glass in a toast. “Please, don’t let my presence dissuade you.”

Mario chuckles, slow and knowing. “Would it disturb you if we were?”

She leans back in her chair, casually dragging a finger along the rim of her wine glass. “Not particularly.”

“So, enlighten me, Harlow, what does it take to endure marriage to a man of my uncle’s stature?” Leonardo inquires, guiding the conversation onto a new course.

Harlow arches a single brow. “Shall I offer you a palatable answer, or would you prefer the unvarnished truth?”

Mario exhales a quiet chuckle. “NowthisI must hear.”

Leonardo leans in ever so slightly, intrigue flickering in his gaze. “The truth, of course.”

“You don’t survive a man like Dante Salvatore. You earn your place beside him.”

A flicker of something passes through the air, subtle but unmistakable. Mario tilts his head, intrigued. Leonardo smirks, his gaze shifting between me and my wife like he’s enjoying a private joke.

I say nothing.

But my grip tightens around my glass. My gaze sharpens, locking onto her. Because whether she realizes it or not, Harlow has just uttered something exceedingly dangerous.

The moment is abruptly disrupted by the unrestrained force that is Mattia, who barrels toward the table, laughter trailing behind him, no doubt at something Bianca has said. His presence crackles with uncontainable energy.

“I'msohungry!” Mattia exclaims as he plops into his seat without a second thought, immediately reaching for his plate.