Chapter 3

"Miss Russo, that joke's gone too far. Signorina Moretti is one of the most valued allies this Family has, not some girl pouring drinks at the bar."

"Delgado, seems like your people could use a little discipline."

"Signorina Moretti is exactly the kind of talent we'd bleed to bring into our house and can't. You'd better treasure her, Delgado."

The mockery Gianna had counted on never came. Instead, every made man at that table was affirming my worth, one voice after another, until the air in the private room seemed to close ranks against her.

I lifted my gaze to Gianna and let out a soft laugh.

"Since Miss Russo wants a drink, I'll be happy to keep her company."

I signaled the waiter to bring two large tumblers and filled them to the brim with the good bottle, the reserve the club kept back for the men who mattered.

When I swallowed a full glass of the high-proof stuff without so much as a flinch, Gianna's face went slack with shock.

I pushed the other glass toward her. "I've finished mine. Miss Russo isn't scared, is she?"

When I was three, I drained an entire bottle of the vintage Lafite my father kept cellared beneath the estate in the old country.

A little liquor like this was nothing.

Marco shot me a displeased look and lowered his voice, one hand drifting up to rub the back of his neck as he turned his eyes from mine.

"Adriana, quit fooling around. Who in this whole territory can drink all night and never go under like you?"

The moment the words left his mouth, I knew he was shielding Gianna.

I set down the glass, nodded to the ranking men at the table, and said with perfect composure,

"Excuse me a moment. I need to freshen up."

But Gianna followed me in.

"Adriana, you must hate me so much your teeth ache. You warmed Marco's bed all this time and still couldn't win his heart. All you're good for is some worn-out thing he uses to blow off steam!"

Seeing that I couldn't be bothered to answer her, Gianna flew into a rage and lunged to shove me down.

I dodged on instinct, twisting aside. She grabbed at empty air, and then her own hand swung up and slapped her across the face.

I stood there dumbfounded, and let Gianna go running out, eyes brimming with tears.

I knew this was bad. By the time I followed her back into the private room, she had already thrown herself into Marco's arms.

"Marco, Signorina Moretti hit me."

"I only went in there to apologize to her, and she called me the pretty little bird you keep, said I wasn't good enough for you."

Marco froze, staring at me with pure shock and confusion. Around the table the men had gone quiet, glasses set down too carefully, every one of them reading the shift in the room.

She wept, the picture of misery, while every word out of her mouth turned black into white.

Marco's brow knit tight. Looking down at Gianna sobbing her heart out against his chest, he spoke, uncertain.

"Adriana, what exactly happened here?"

I let out a bitter laugh and sighed. "Delgado, do you actually believe such a clumsy little frame-up?"

"There was more than the two of us in that restroom just now. Bianca Costa of the Costa house was there too. Why don't you go ask her?"

Gianna's crying cut off in an instant. She laughed, a half-beat too fast, her fingers rising to touch the very cheek she'd struck, and beneath the powder her face had gone white. She pressed on, frantic.

"Marco, a woman knows a woman best. She got close to you with bad intentions from the start!"

"Adriana looks down on me. She wants to sit at your side as your wife, the Delgado woman."

Her crying frayed Marco's nerves. He looked at me, weighing, and beneath it lay disappointment.

"Gianna's still young, she doesn't know better. Even if she said something out of line, you had no business raising a hand to her."

Back in the turf war, an enemy family had paid people to frame me before witnesses.

Marco had stood at my side without a second's hesitation and said, flat and unshakable, that he would always believe me.

Now I saw it clearly. Even a pact sworn under omertà couldn't hold against a man with his head clouded by a woman's perfume.

Seeing me hold my silence, Marco chose to smooth it over anyway. His hand went to the back of his neck again, and he would not meet my eyes.

He wrapped a soothing arm around Gianna's shoulders, his voice worn thin.

"Adriana, it's a trivial thing. Did you really have to make such an ugly scene in front of the whole table?"

"You answer to me. All the more reason to know your place, do your work, and stop entertaining these fantasies, coveting things that were never yours!"

"This business ends here tonight. You'll have a written apology on my desk by morning!"

With that, he turned and walked off, the still-sniffling Gianna tucked under his arm.