Page 124 of Auctioned to the Mafia Don
No, I said me. I said take me.
My hand curls at my side.
Stefano feels it. His fingers press once against my back.
Not comfort.
Instruction.
Leon rises.
“Savarese,” he says, spreading his hands as if we are meeting for dinner instead of circling the wreckage of everything he has touched. “I was beginning to think Boston had become too cold for you.”
“It is,” Stefano says. “That is why I dislike staying.”
Leon laughs lightly, but he is watching me. “And yet you brought company.”
Stefano guides me into the booth beside him before I can decide whether I want to sit. His arm settles along the backrest behind me, close without touching.
“Sit down,” Leon says.
It is not an invitation.
I smile at him.
“No.”
The word lands cleanly.
Leon’s expression shifts. Not much. Just enough for me to see the irritation beneath it.
Stefano’s mouth moves at the corner.
Leon takes his seat again. “You are learning bad habits.”
“I had them before him.”
“That is not what I heard.”
“You should stop listening to people who sell women in private clubs.”
His eyes sharpen.
Across the room, the jazz singer holds a long note. Someone laughs excessively loudly at the bar. The agents do not move. Raven does not move.
The operation is waiting.
So am I—waiting for the moment Raven gives the signal to move.
Leon pours himself a drink, though he still does not touch the first one. “I heard a lot of concerning things after the incident in Miami. The Bureau made a mess. People panicked.” He looks at Stefano. “Then I heard you walked out with something you paidhalf a million dollars for.” Then he adds, “And I heard you know where my children are.”
Stefano’s hand shifts behind me.
“She was expensive,” he says.
Leon’s eyes return to mine. “Was she worth it?”
The question makes my skin crawl.
