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Montrell had mentioned the hit man with dislike once before. It intrigued Beatrice. Montrell got along with everyone unless he had a reason not to—like with their fathers. “You’ve mentioned an assassin before.” She searched her memory. “He’s related to the Bratva?”
“Was brainwashed by them as a kid,” Antonio muttered. “He didn’t so much save Gio as just let him live when he was ordered not to. He shouldn’t have been able to do as much damage as he did; he wasn’t even grown at the time. Luka has always been damned lethal.”
The kitchen was on the bottom floor, and Nera led them inside.
“So he’s a hired killer?” Beatrice asked, ducking through the door that Montrell held open.
Inside, a slight woman was cutting up fruit at the kitchen island. She was the same one who had hugged Vespa before. Alina, Beatrice thought she’d been called.
Antonio leaned back against a cabinet. “He’s not a hired killer anymore, not with the pakhan dead.” He sighed. “He does good work, though. He’s been listening in and taking care of problems before we ask him to lately.”
Alina’s hand tensed on the knife.
The kitchen seemed smaller with Montrell hovering behind Beatrice. She leaned into his side, peering up at his face. “And you don’t like him?”
Montrell’s eyes narrowed. “He shot Vespa.”
“He wasn’t the one who shot me.” Vespa hunched into herself in the corner. “He tried to shoot you, I interfered, and the pakhan shot me.” She nodded toward Beatrice. “Remember the sling I was wearing in Vegas? That’s what happened.”
Nera had pulled down some plates while Giovanni gathered something sweet-looking from the refrigerator.“Luka is a sweetheart,” she said, “and he’s welcome among the Di Salvos as long as he’d like.”
Her tone was firm.
Antonio’s smile returned, but it appeared genuine this time as he looked at Nera. “Like husband, like wife. You both have a soft spot for him.”
Nera lifted her chin. “I’m loyal. He’s one of us, like Alina is.”
The slight woman had pushed the fruit she’d been cutting to the side. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know Luka has a past, but he’s everything to me now.” Her eyes found Montrell. “And we can leave if we’re not wanted.”
Montrell tugged at his beard. “No, we’ll be leaving soon.” His eyes shifted around the kitchen. “That must mean the little bugger is a shadow around here somewhere, though.”
Nera began plating the dessert. “Stay. We’re celebrating Beatrice becoming consigliere today.” She crossed, holding out the first plate to Beatrice. “I just heard that news. Congratulations.”
Beatrice’s gaze slid over to Montrell. “It was a well-kept secret.”
Nera laughed. “And here I was, thinking Coronella was more talkative than Giovanni.” She smiled at her husband. “It seems he doesn’t always use his words either.”
Montrell leaned down toward Beatrice. “But it made you happy?” he asked next to her ear.
“It did,” she replied.
Nera’s eyes softened as she studied them. “Giulia must be happy with your marriage to Montrell.”
“Giulia?” Beatrice paused with her spoon lifted. “I’m not sure I’ve won her over yet.”
“Oh?” Nera looked surprised. “She caught me holding hands with Giovanni when we had a date at the restaurant and said she was happy to see a love match. With her mothering toward Montrell, I assumed she’d want love for him even more.”
Beatrice’s face warmed. The idea loving Montrell sounded better than she expected, but also confusing, so she deflected instead. “I meant to ask, Nera. Do you have a specific role among the Di Salvos?” Her gaze shifted to the Di Salvo men, who were talking quietly together. “Antonio told me he’s consigliere, but you seem very involved as well.”
“Oh, I’m not interested in titles.” Nera shrugged. “Giovanni and I talk through things together, share an office, and share the weight of decision-making.” She looked toward her husband. “I just want to love him. And to share in as many moments with him as possible. That’s enough for me.”
Beatrice swallowed, feeling like she’d seen an expression not meant for her.
Nera returned to handing out the dessert, which she had made herself, Beatrice learned.
A plate had been put to the side. At some point, while they all ate, it disappeared. Beatrice saw another man, slight in stature, with a shaved head and tattoos, resting against the wall beside Alina. They didn’t touch, but their bodies were turned toward each other as she murmured something to him.
With the conversation flowing around the kitchen and many other Di Salvos coming in once they’d sniffed out the treat, the Di Salvo estate seemed like a home.
