Page 35 of Vicious Secrets
Ari nods slowly and pats his chest. “Nice to know I retain some sanity.”
“I think Tiff just stepped away for a moment.”
Ari’s demeanor morphs in a flash. His lips twist into a sneer, and the corners of his eyes twitch along with his fingers at his sides.
I stumble back and bump into the banister, accidentally trapping myself. A shadow falls over me. I shrink down and whip my head in its direction.
Siro stands next to me, body facing me, but head pointed at Ari. He grabs my shoulder and pulls me into him like he’s shielding me.
“Do you and I have a problem?” Siro asks in a monotone voice.
Ari’s eyes narrow at Siro. “No, Boss.”
“Get the fuck out of my sight, Ari.”
Ari’s nostrils flare as he dips his chin to his chest. He turns his back to us and rubs at his face with both hands as he storms down the hall in the direction Tiff went.
I lean into Siro and fist his lapels, tugging his attention back to me.
“He’s going after your Aunt,” I whisper.
“Tiff’s safer with him than she is with Renzo. Her son Danny is Ari’s mentee and best friend. Ari’s not one of her adoptive children, but you wouldn’t know by how overprotective he is,” he says in a low tone and glances around the hall. “Ari wouldn’t have hurt you if I didn’t step in.”
I release a shaky breath and center myself. I rest my hands on his chest and sneak a few fingers under the lapels of his blazer. The muscles under my hands don’t tense up. They’re already strained from whatever Siro just stopped from happening. Or from his previous conversation.
“Everything alright with your Uncle?”
“Yes.” Siro grinds his back teeth.
I pull my hands away. He catches one and presses it back on his chest, tucking it under his coat.
I look around the hall. We’re alone, and from where he pulled me to safety, it’d be difficult for someone to see us without leaving either room.
“No one’s watching,” I whisper.
My heart skips a beat as he relaxes under my palm.
“I know.”
Siro
HowfuckedupisRobyn’s psyche to be this good of an actress in the face of men like Ari Tavano and Renzo Montoro?
Not as fucked up as mine. There’s a sickness inside me that wants to bask in Robyn’s concern for me. What a disgustingly good trait for a monster like me to find attractive.
After dinner, I lounge about the sitting room with several of my older Capos and end up distracted by Ari or Vi wandering about. Both of them are keeping an eye on Renzo. He bickered with me earlier in the evening, but that’s it—he bitched and moaned. Squinting doesn’t show me a thinly veiled threat or hint of scheming. Every fucking time we dig into whatever Renzo’s up to, we come up twice as confused. It’s worse than finding nothing.
Running into Vittore off the clock fucking stings. Mel seems to view me as a joyless leech who feeds off of her. After weeks of thought, it’s time for me to come to terms with the death of my brotherly bond with Vittore. The fractured relationship we have now is as close to repaired as it will ever get.
My Capos wander off to grab new drinks or flirt with their wives, leaving me debating making an early escape with Robyn. But having a quiet night is the last thing on my mind.
Each little smile, the heat of her skin against my own, and stolen glances threaten to pull me under her spell and forget this is all a game. She’s too fucking good. How can any of these fuckers look at her and think she’s a lesser match?
There has been an improvement in my sensitivity over the past few weeks. Every time she touches me, I repeat a mantra in my head. It takes a couple of tries before I discover the magic words my brain needs to hear:“Robyn’s safe.”The little touches we share at dinner parties rarely trigger my flight or fight senses but do occasionally overwhelm me with a mixture of pleasure and unease.
But I can’t tell how deep the change goes without testing it. With the all-hands Underboss meeting in twelve days, I can’t take any extra risks right now.
Robyn steps into the room. The world slows as she approaches. Does she know her hips sway as she walks in tight skirts? Or how the outline of a different curve catches my attention with every step? Or that I hate our facade because it feels too real, too enticing, and too pure?
