Page 69 of Contempt

How simple that seemed.

Renzo didn’t know if it would be.

“Oh, and I am having dinner next week,” Rose said, “that’s why I called. I want you to come, and you better be here for it. As long as you are in this city, I expect you to show up.”

Okay.

His sister wasn’t fucking around.

“And what about Diego?” Renzo asked.

Because he still hadn’t seen his brother since being back in New York. Rose was keeping that boy protected—as Renzo would want her to, but that wasn’t the point. It was the fact that, in a way, she was keeping him protected from him.

That burned.

A little.

“Well, I’m not telling Diego anything,” Rose said. “I don’t want him to get his hopes up and then have them shattered again. So, don’t fuck this up, Ren. I have to be the person who looks out for him now, you know? That means I stop things that hurt him—don’t be something that hurts him again.”

Then, Rose added, “And write her back.”

His sister hung up the phone.

Renzo wasn’t surprised.

• • •

The man who walked into the darkened restaurant didn’t notice Renzo sitting in the corner. He’d perched himself in the back of a booth, and used the table to rest his foot a little higher than the rest of his body.

Lazy, sure, but fuck it.

In fact, the man walked halfway across the floor and was heading toward a back hallway where the sounds of keys clicking on a keyboard continued to tap away. Like it had for the last half of an hour since Renzo broke into the business, and found himself a place to sit while he waited for Johnathan Marcello to show up.

As he always did.

Seemed the man liked to end his wife’s night where she worked by coming to get her, and taking her home.

Fucking sweet.

“John,” Renzo said.

He took great satisfaction in the way John’s back stiffened at the sound of Renzo’s voice. Maybe the man had meant to spin slowly to face Renzo, but it was fast. He didn’t miss the shock in John’s eyes, either, even if he was quick to hide it.

“How did you get in here?” John demanded.

Renzo’s gaze slid to the front door. “The same way you did.”

“I have keys. The place is closed.”

“John?”

The soft, feminine voice coming from the back hallway echoed out to their spot. John was quick to give Renzo a look before calling back to his wife, “It’s fine, Siena. Keep working—I’ll be back in a minute.”

“If you’re su—”

“I’m sure, Siena.”

The woman in the background made an annoyed noise under her breath, and Renzo chuckled. “I bet she keeps you on your toes, huh?”