Page 52

The elevator opens into the penthouse, and she steps out ahead of me.

I tell myself not to do it.

That she doesn’t need a gun because I’ll assign a personal bodyguard to escort her wherever she wants to go.

But still, I find myself opening my mouth before I’ve got the sense to close it.

"Put on shoes," I say.

She turns around. "What?"

"Shoes. Something closed-toe. You have five minutes."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to teach you how to use a firearm."

Her eyes brighten with surprise. "Really?”

"Really."

She smiles mischievously. "Did I just win an argument, Mr. Di Zaro?"

"Put on shoes, little rose."

She gives me a sunny smile, then sprints down the hall to her room. I’m slightly unnerved by how that bright smile made me feel.

It’s like something warm slowly moving through my body.

Up until now, I’ve seen Angry Sunny, Feisty Sunny, Exhausted Sunny, and Sarcastic Sunny. Now I’ve seen Happy Sunny, and suddenly it makes sense why she was voted Most Likely to Make Everyone Smile.

For the first time, I understand it.

And, inexplicably, I like knowing I’m the one who put that smile on her face.

While I wait for her, I pull my phone from my pocket and call Caruso.

He answers immediately. “Boss?”

“Open the range. A private session for two.”

“Consider it done.”

Ending the call, I look down the hallway to where Sunny disappeared. I can hear her in her room, opening drawers and the muffled thud of shoes hitting the floor.

Teaching Sunny how to shoot and carry a firearm isn’t as crazy as it sounds.

Because the truth is, a wife who can't defend herself is a liability.

And in my world, liabilities don't survive.

25

SUNNY

The firing range is in the basement of Fortune. Dante holds the door open to it, and I walk in ahead of him.

Six lanes line the windowless galley, with paper targets hanging at the far end of each.