The line didn't ring long. It connected on the first buzz.
Silence stretched, heavy and deliberate, before that smooth, venom-laced voice filled my ear.
"Don Romano," Massimo drawled, drawing out the syllables like he had all the time in the world. "I hear possible congratulations are in order. A wife… and a weakness."
My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. I hated his voice. Too calm, too smug, like a man who thought he'd already won.
"What the fuck do you want?" I rasped, forcing each word through gritted teeth.
A low chuckle slid through the receiver. It was the kind of laugh that made men itch to spill blood. "Always impatient. Always sharp around the edges. But I'm calling because you and I...we have unfinished business."
I stepped toward the glass wall of the suite, the city glittering far below. My reflection stared back at me, jaw locked, eyes dark, the weight of the world pressing down. Behind me, Mira shifted slightly on the couch, oblivious.
