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That way Gio can drop it off at the judge’s house later. I don’t text that last part, just think it to myself.

“Right, well, since we agree I should pay moving forward, there’s nothing more to discuss,” I state brusquely.

I’m aware I’m cutting Harry off, and abruptly changing the subject back to where it needs to be. Luckily for me, the man doesn’t care one bit when he thinks it means he’s about to get paid. For his daughter. This motherfucker is something else.

Harry’s greedy eyes sparkle with satisfaction. “Sounds good, Mr. DeLuca. Um, well, Domenico, I mean, we’re family after all.” He slaps his stomach as he laughs heartily at his own joke.

I let him enjoy what he thinks is coming for all of ten seconds. Then I say, “So, just to make sure we’re on the same page, I’ll pay for your wife’s hospital stay.”

“I’m so grateful—”

“And then I’ll deduct it from what I owe you,” I clarify, not caring one fucking bit that I’m interrupting him again.

In fact, I smirk as I watch the color drain from his face.

“That way I can be sure Kira gets what she bartered her body away for.” I take a deep breath. “And since you’re so concerned about everything being done correctly, I’ll even have an amended contract drawn up and delivered to you tonight. That way, everything’s done correctly. It was good of you to come here and make sure I was aware of everything, Harry.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“But Mr. DeLuca,” he argues. He’s sweating profusely now, and I really hope none of it lands on my desk. “Th-that wasn’t the agreement.”

“The agreement,” I say slowly, “is whatever I say it is.”

He knows better than to argue. I watch him process it—the loss of control, the money slipping through his fingers, the realization that he came here for leverage and left with less than he had.

He stands, adjusting his sport coat with his good hand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. DeLuca.”

I refuse to answer as I watch him cross to the door, open it, and step through. The latch clicks behind him.

Alone, I press my knuckles to the surface of the desk and stare at the grain in the wood. The office is quiet, too fucking quiet for what I’ve just realized. If I’m right, I should beat his pathetic ass.

“I know I should let you fuck me now.”

Kira’s words from the day after our wedding spring to the front of my mind. I knew there was more to her should. But… this. Her dad’s fucking pressuring her… I know I shouldn’t be surprised after she told me why she agreed to the marriage.

My jaw aches from holding it shut. Part of me wants to track down Harry and eliminate him from her life once and for all. Another wants to go to the hospital and demand Kira tell me exactly what her dad made her do.

But I already know I’m not going to do either. Harry’s safe until I know whether or not Kira wants him gone permanently. And as for my wife, I want her to tell me this. I want her to trust me enough to tell me without me taking it.

My phone buzzes on the desk. Vinny’s name lights up the screen, and something in my chest tightens before I even answer.

“Boss.” His voice is clipped, professional.

“Talk.”

As Vinny tells me about Kira’s run-in with Greg, I clench my jaw so tight that I wouldn’t be surprised if my molars crack. He fucking scared her and that’s unacceptable.

“… she said she was afraid she’d get into trouble,” Vinny continues.

The phone creaks in my grip. I force my fingers to relax before the screen cracks.

“Keep her at the hospital until you hear from me.”

I end the call. Set the phone down. Count to three. One. Two. Three. Fuck it, that’s enough. I pick up my phone again and text Gio, telling him to bring Greg to the penthouse. Now.

While I wait for my second-in-command’s confirmation, I shrug my jacket off and hang it on the back of my chair. It feels constricting with how angry I am right now. First, Harry tested my patience, and now this shit.

Gio’s reply comes as I roll my sleeves up to the elbow. The tattoos on my forearms catch the light—black and gray patterns that mean something only to me. I cross to the bar cart in the corner of the office and pour some whiskey into a glass.