Let Her Starve


I pursed my lips as I watched the grandfather clock in the corner of my office. It ticked and ticked away, each second like a breath I imagined Giuseppe de Luca taking as he arrived at his father’s house after a long night with whores and dice.

My mouth twitched into a smile at the thought of what he’d find.

The clock chimed seven, and I looked up as Francesco Abate entered the room, his face twisted in exhaustion. Francesco was a few years my junior. Tall and burly, he dripped with brute force and a violent disposition that had taken years to rein in. He was still working on that, but I was in no hurry to tame him. Terrifying man, truly.

Francesco crossed his thick arms over his chest. “He knows.”

“Well, that didn’t take long,” I said.

A maid hurried in with a tray of coffee, her eyes flicking up to Francesco for a split second before she bristled and hurried over to me. She poured me a cup and I arched my brow at Francesco, who glared at the maid.

“Thank you,” I said, but sh
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