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And she rambled like an idiot, just like talking on a phone always made her feel.
Antonio’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He jerked on the ties around his wrists, a sickening swirl in his head as he tried to focus. Hopefully Giovanni wouldn’t be too pissed at him when he didn’t answer.
He was regretting not letting him or Enzo know about his hit on Rossi. At the time, it had made sense to provide plausible deniability. When a car had rammed him before he could make it back to the estate, he’d realized he was still a step behind.
“I hope you didn’t hurt Rossi’s fiancée,” Antonio said, looking around the space he’d been in once before. The foreign woman lay still in the corner of the sitting room.
Leandro Barone finished pouring scotch into a glass and raised an eyebrow when he turned back to face him. “Is that the type of reputation I have?”
Antonio held in his need to snarl and snap. Going off wouldn’t get him out of this situation. At least, not in one piece.
“You’re feared but typically respected. I guess that’s why I’m so surprised by these antics.” Antonio’s fake smile felt brittle. “If you wanted to meet with me about the arranged marriage again, a phone call would have sufficed.”
Barone let out a snort. “I do like your style, Antonio. You would have been a good match for my daughter.” He downed the whiskey, setting the glass back on the bar.
“I take it the offer is withdrawn?” Antonio asked, trying to straighten his shoulders as he tested the ties beneath his cast. They weren’t loose like he’d hoped.
“Well, you did turn me down already,” Barone said.
“Then what exactly can I help you with?” Blood dripped toward Antonio’s eye. Likely a result of him being in a fucking car crash. He was even more impressed that Vespa had managed her own with only the one slice to her forehead.
Leandro Barone smiled at him before moving closer. “Pardon my reach,” he murmured, slipping Antonio’s phone out of his pocket. “I’m certain you’re as curious as I am about who could be calling.”
“I’ll check it later,” Antonio said, trying for flippant, but his nerves skittered as Barone turned the phone, revealing Vespa’s name. His first phone call from the woman he loved, and he hadn’t been in a position to take it.
Barone hadn’t just been showing him the name. He hummed in satisfaction as the facial recognition unlocked the phone, and Antonio cursed modern technology.
“I was caught off guard when I read the reports about you two. That doesn’t happen very often.” Leandro Barone paused, his eyes flicking up from his phone. “Antonio Di Salvo choosing someone like Vespa Mortali.”
Antonio jerked his hands, sinking his teeth into the inside of his cheek. He swallowed the first words that rose to mind, letting his smile return instead. “I thought I was clear before. The Di Salvos and the Coronellas are aligned. Of course I interact with Montrell Coronella’s second hand.”
Barone shook his head in disappointment. “You believe you can convince me it’s all business between you two?”
“I don’t care what you think.” Antonio forced an eyebrow up. “Now, are you going to kill me, or should we talk about what you want?”
“Maybe listening to her voicemail will cut through your bullshit,” Barone said, fiddling with the phone.
Antonio wanted to roll his eyes. Vespa barely answered texts. There was no way in hell she’d left him a detailed voicemail.
Her voice sounded as annoyed as he’d expected when it filtered out of his phone. “Shit! Fucking voicemail. I should hang up.”
Even in this scenario, she made him want to laugh—a bittersweet ache he felt deep in his gut.
“Fuck it. You already know who this is.”
He let himself settle, expected a quick ‘call me back’ and a click.
“Montrell and Bea told me some shit about Rossi and wanted me to call to ask what’s up. So there. I’ve done that.”
That he’d been able to hear her one last time, even through a phone, added to the ache.
“I should hang up,” her voice muttered, “but the hell with it. About what you said. I realized I never said it back.”
Antonio’s heart stuttered. No. It was too soon for her. She wouldn’t.
“Not that I’m going to,” she confirmed, letting him breathe again. “Not on a fucking voicemail, and I don’t say shit like that. Just ask Montrell.” She laughed, the loud bray that should have been grating but made him want to grin. “Anyway, I was thinking. And I sort of, kind of, might be able to possibly feel the same, if you give me enough time.”
Antonio’s pulse skittered. She’d said the words without saying the words, and he would have been ecstatic if he wasn’t about to die.
