My adorable mafioso
Always measuring.
“De Luca.”
Fabio took position behind Dante while Luca’s men stayed alert in the dark corners of the room. Two beasts sizing each other up, deciding whether to tear each other apart or negotiate.
Luca swirled the cognac in his glass, eyes sharp as razor blades.
“Too bad about Franco.”
Dante rested an elbow on the table, laced his fingers, and looked at him coldly.
“Is it?”
Luca chuckled softly.
“Not for me. But I know it is for you. And now you want answers, don’t you?”