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Angela made no effort to move from his lap. “What is?”
“I’m going to New York,” he stated.
She didn’t understand. “What? New York? Where the Romano mafioso is?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Why? You literally just told me you refuse to get drawn back into that world. Yet, you’re going to the heart of the beast?”
Roman grabbed the hands she was wringing in her lap. “I have to, Angel. It could be the only way to learn where Godfrey is holed up.”
“Because he knew your father?” It was logical, but to her it wasn’t worth the risk.
“Partially,” Roman replied. “And because that’s where the vaults are.”
Angela was sure she hadn’t heard him right. “Did you just say vaults?” Then she listened as Roman spun a tale that was, to her, more appropriate for the plot of a B-grade movie than real life. “This is why they call you a mafia prince, isn’t it? Because the family structure truly is inherited. You’re really an heir.”
Roman’s face twisted scornfully. “Yep.”
“Holy shit.” She was grateful when Roman laughed, but she really couldn’t think of anything more eloquent to say.
“Crazy, right?” he asked rhetorically, rising from the chair and placing her on her feet. He began to clear away the dishes.
“For real,” Angela agreed. “And your uncle controls it now?”
“For the most part, yes. He is the only one with access. Technically, I am allowed to access it because...” He grimaced, rinsing the dishes and handing them to her to place in the dishwasher. “I’m the only direct heir from both bloodlines. It’s one of the reasons why I was able to leave relatively unscathed. That, and I killed anyone who got in my way. I also retain rights to some property in New York.”
“But don’t they hate you?” She sought clarification after everything she’d just learned, while also needing to reiterate that main concern.
“Oh, absolutely. They hate my guts,” Roman told her almost cheerfully.
Angela wasn’t amused. “And you want to go there? Absolutely not.”
Roman huffed, leaning back against the countertop. He looked sexy as sin with his sweats riding low, his chest bare, and his tousled hair. “Angel, there’s no other choice. I have to find out who this man is.”
Not at the cost of your life, Angela thought fearfully. There were more important things than revenge. “The only thing you have to do is make sure you come home to me every night. That is your priority.” She stalked over to him and jabbed him the chest. “Do you hear me? You made me fall in love with you. You made yourself my world. And you have no fucking right to take that away from me. I won’t stand for it.”
He reached out for her but she dodged him. He sighed. “Angel, nothing will happen to me.”
“You can’t guarantee that. Despite what you may think, you’re not bulletproof.” She moved closer again, as if drawn by a magnet. She pressed her palm flat against his chest. “I know because I feel the warmth of your skin. I feel your heart beating.”
Roman covered her hand with his. “Angel, I don’t want to argue with you about it. It needs to be done. You know how you need to work? Well, I need to do this. I need to find this guy. And I need to make him regret ever being born.”
“I understand,” Angela said quickly. “I do. And I feel the same way. I want him to know pain, Roman. I really do. I just believe there’s a way to do it without putting yourself in danger.”
“That would be nice,” he admitted, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “And Luca,” he added.
She frowned, allowing him to link their fingers together. “Luca?”
“Yeah. He insists on going,” Roman said, not looking impressed.
The thought made her feel a little sick. “Oh, Roman, he can’t.”
“Try telling him that,” he muttered. “The kid is stubborn as hell.”
“I wonder where he gets that from,” Angela said dryly. Roman’s disgruntled look was enough for her to smile. She was about to plead with him to reconsider when an idea hit. One that was so simple she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. “They say love is blind,” she murmured in a self-deprecating manner.
“Scusi?” Roman asked with a frown.
