Page 15 of Wanton

Gabriel shakes his head. "What are you doing with the Genovese girl, Luca? I thought we were supposed to be dragging Rafe away from the edge, not pushing him closer toward it."

"That's what I'm trying to do," I mutter, my shoulders tensing.

"By holding her against her will?" Gabe shoots me a look that says he knows I'm full of shit. "We aren't our father, big brother. We aren't Tommaso Genovese. We don't do this shit."

"Cazzo," I growl. "Did Rafe call a sit-down, or is this a setup?"

"He called," Gabe says. "I'm just speaking the truth. You know I am."

"I intend to marry her," I mutter, turning to look out at the water. A ship loaded with crates slowly bobs along the water, headed toward Milwaukee. I'm not sure where the confession comes from, but it's true. I want my ring on her finger. Not because Emilio will demand it but because I want it there.

No, principessa. I'm not a monster. I'm just the man you obsessed.

"Cristo. Does Emilio know?"

"He will soon enough."

"Does she know?"

I shrug noncommittally.

Gabe is silent for a moment and then barks laughter. "Fucking hell. First, Rafe starts thinking with his dick, and now you are."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"No? You think Emilio will just hand her over? Marcello?" Gabe laughs again, a hard, mocking edge to the sound. "You aren't that stupid, Luca. Emilio is a leech, but Marcello will try to rip your throat out if he gets a chance. He and Callandria are tight."

"Which is precisely why they think she left of her own free will."

"Jesus Christ," Gabe mutters. "You've lost your goddamn mind."

I spin to face him, only to see Rafe's Bentayga pulling up beside my SUV. I snap my mouth closed, waiting silently for our older brother to join us before we hash this shit out. If I'm going to have to argue my case again, I'd rather do it with both of them at once. This will be the last time I do it.

Explaining my decisions isn't something I make a habit of doing. They're the only two who get the courtesy. Anyone else can fuck off as far as I'm concerned. I'm not Rafe. I don't snap my fingers and expect people to fall in line. But this isn't a democracy, either. Explaining invites questions, questions breed doubt. And doubt is the motherfucker that gets people killed.

I'm trying to make sure as many of us make it out alive as possible. Not just today but every day. That's my job. Making sure we survive.

Gabe glances over at the Bentayga, his eyes hard as he waits for Rafe to emerge from his armored SUV to join us. He grunts when Mattia slips out and heads our way too. Guess he's not thrilled with Mattia's role in any of this shit, either.

Rafe looks nothing like he did when I left him yesterday. The stark hopelessness in his eyes is gone, replaced with a sense of peace I've never seen. Even though his expression is grim, he's settled, happy. It's fucking weird to see from a man who hasn't known peace since he was shot twice when he was an eleven-year-old kid.

"Gabe, Luca," he says. "Thanks for meeting."

I jerk my chin in a nod.

"We live to serve," Gabe says dryly.

Rafe ignores his smart-ass comment. Gabe needles the hell out of him. He's been doing it since our father died and Rafe took over. Gabe belongs in this world about as much as Nico does, but he took the oath. He won't forsake it now. He sits in his ivory tower, running the day-to-day operations of Valentino International.

"Emilio Genovese knows you have his daughter," Rafe says to me, not wasting any time. "He wants a sit-down with you to discuss her return."

"Not happening."

"He isn't buying that she's with you of her own free will."

"Hold the fuck on," Gabriel interrupts. "You knew about this?"

Rafe grimaces, which is answer enough for Gabe.