Kyle had done the impossible. He'd walked into Marcello Vescari's home as a suspected traitor with a target painted on his back, and somehow—through balls, timing, and information. He turned the whole thing around. The most powerful mafia boss, the man who'd united five families through blood and fear, was actually listening to him now. Not as some underling. Not as another body to be used and thrown away but as an equal.
But outside that conference room, in the hallways where the other family heads paced and whispered, things were a mess.
-
Isabeau had her back against the wall, trying to look as put-together as always. Lucius Moretti stood too close, his Italian features sharp with something that made her skin crawl.
"You know," Lucius said, casual as hell, "I've been thinking about your husband. Shame what happened. Car accident, right? Brakes gave out on that mountain road."
Isabeau kept her face blank. "Yes. It was devastating."
