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The older Coronella soldiers he’d teamed up with had been ripe for treachery, but it wasn’t as if they’d respected Cesare. That he’d tried to feed her to them had hurt her pride and ego in a way he hadn’t understood.
Her eyes scanned the space, not finding a trace of blood. Good. She wouldn’t have to knock any heads together over half-assing the job.
She remembered the way Antonio had held the phone for her so she wouldn’t have to smear it with blood. His finger had felt good against her cheek, so good that she’d tilted her head and rubbed against him.
What she felt for Antonio wasn’t a crush. It was so much more than that.
“There you are,” Montrell said from the doorway.
Vespa looked away so he wouldn’t see her cringe. No way he hadn’t heard all about Antonio’s confession from the boys.
“Just checking behind the cleanup crew,” she said. “It looks good.”
“The Coronellas are solid,” Montrell agreed. “Now, stop trying to avoid me. Why did you bring up Cesare over the phone last night?”
Vespa’s hands clenched. “I didn’t. The enemies that ran me off the road mentioned him. It threw me a little.”
“I’ll bet. You don’t even like me bringing up his name.” Montrell moved to her side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and squeezing. “I wasn’t lying last night. Every Coronella who was involved in that died after touching you.”
“Most by my hand,” she said with a sniff.
“Yeah, but I also took out anyone even suspected of being involved.” He sighed when Vespa stared at him and then released her to tug on his beard. “I should have done it before. There were enough whispers to act. I just usually leave that up to you.”
“And I was acting all googly-eyed over a fancy-looking nobody.” She frowned. “Do you remember who brought Cesare into the fold?”
“One of the ones you killed that night. He didn’t have many connections. Worked his way up from associate to soldier and wasn’t yet a capo when his fancy suits caught your eye.”
“He was attractive,” Vespa defended her past self. “Great hair, dark eyes, a firm jaw, and, as you said, snazzy suits that looked damn good.”
“You definitely have a type.” Montrell bumped her shoulder with his.
“Don’t start. I feel weird about Di Salvo right now.”
“A good weird?” Montrell asked, searching her face.
“Jury’s still out. We might have to count the Di Salvos out for a while, though.” She forced her jaw to relax. “We’ve been doing more taking than giving in this alliance. The Di Salvos are smart to unhitch their wagon for now.”
“Wait, so that asshole came to profess his love and also say, ‘See ya, good luck’?” Montrell growled.
“Not exactly,” Beatrice said from the doorway. Her heels clipped as she closed the distance between them.
Montrell smiled at her, that giddy smile of a man head over heels for his wife. “Does my consigliere come bearing some news?”
“Franco Rossi is dead. Current theory circulating is that we ordered it.” Beatrice frowned at Vespa. “When did Antonio leave last night?”
“While I was asleep.” Her thoughts caught up to her. “Wait, you think Antonio was responsible?”
“I do.” Beatrice’s red lips stretched in a smile. “It has a strong ‘don’t touch what’s mine’ type of message.”
“I’m not his,” Vespa muttered. “The Coronellas would have taken care of it.”
“I get why he would act.” Montrell reached for her hair, messing up her bun before she could slap his hands away. “It’s the thing to do if you’re a Mafia man in love.”
“Quit it!” Vespa snapped. “Antonio wouldn’t go off half-cocked like that. He’s more like Beatrice. Analytical and manipulative.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Beatrice said drily. “Though you’re right, it’s not his style, especially not knowing whether the evidence adds up.” She frowned. “I know what Luka said last night, but it’s still too…”
“Simple,” Vespa agreed. “And Cesare had nothing to do with the Rossis. At least I’m pretty sure he didn’t.”
