Page 9 of The Bonventi War

I hang up, my mind already going over my plans. I may not have gotten into specifics with Enzo, but I know exactly how I'm going to watch her. Every move, every breath, every fucking lie that comes out of that pretty mouth of hers—I'll catch them all.

Raven has no idea what's coming for her. And if she's hiding things from me? If she's involved in any way with what happened to Marco?

God won't even be able to help her.

6

RAVEN

Iglance at my watch. It's 4:45 p.m. Almost time to close up so I can focus on the restorations downstairs. It was a hectic day, but if I close this sale, it'll be my best day here yet.

"This piece," I gesture to the large canvas before us, "was actually discovered in the attic of an old villa outside Rome. The restoration process took nearly eight months to?—"

"Get out."

The deep, commanding voice cuts through the gallery like a knife. I freeze, holding my breath as my heartbeat starts to race.

I know that voice.

Slowly, I turn to see Gio striding in, flanked by two men in black suits who look like trained killers. My stomach drops. He's pointing at a couple near the entrance, who scramble to gather their things.

No. Not here. Not now.

"We're closed," he announces, his cold, hard eyes scanning the floor. I watch, paralyzed, unsure what the hell is going on.

Mr. Robertson, the potential buyer I've spent the last hour with, shifts uncomfortably beside me. Gio's gaze locks onto him.

"You." Gio points at Mr. Robertson. "Out. We're closed."

My face now burns with anger and embarrassment. "Excuse me," I say to Robertson before turning to Gio. "We are not closed."

Gio approaches, towering over both of us, his presence suffocating. The two men with him position themselves near the exits and turn to look at us.

"We are," Gio says, looking directly at my client. "You can leave freely, or my men can help."

The threat in his words is unmistakable. Mr. Robertson, clearly intimidated, mumbles an apology and practically runs for the door, leaving me alone with Gio and his men.

I watch him go, and I start to see red, anger rising up inside me.

"Hey," I snap, my voice trembling with rage. "Hey! Turn around," I say to Gio, who does. "You can't just walk in here and do this."

Gio looks around the gallery, his movements slow and deliberate. His tattoos peek out from his collar as he turns his head, reminding me of exactly who—and what—he is.

"Why?" he asks, green eyes settling back on me. "Who's going to stop me?"

I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off.

"No one," he says, taking a step closer.

My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of fear and fury coursing through my veins. I clench my fists at my sides, ready and willing to stand my ground.

"Cut the shit and tell me what the hell you think you're doing," I hiss, glancing nervously at the two men. Their expressions are blank, but their eyes are alert, watching my every move.

Gio takes a step closer, leaving little room between us. I can smell his cologne again, that spicy, expensive scent that seems to cling to every inch of him.

I stand there, rage boiling inside me as Gio stands in the gallery. My gallery. The one thing I've been working so hard to salvage, to keep my mom's vision going, and he's treating it like his personal playground. I feel a strong urge to swing at him, unleash every ounce of anger I've been holding back.

"You seem confused, Raven," he says, his voice condescending. "Let me make it simple for you."