Page 34 of Vicious Secrets
His uncle’s smile oozes with slime one would expect if someone won a rigged bet. Tiff looks like she’s in her mid-forties and perpetually exhausted from however many kids they have.
“Good to see you both,” Siro says in a neutral tone. “It feels like it’s been months.”
Tiff’s eyes flick to Siro. “Thank you, Siro. I’m happy you’ve found peace.”
Siro’s fingers spread over my lower back. From the dullness of his aunt’s eyes, I don’t think I’m reading into her words; she is full of terror.
Renzo’s lips press into a thin line as he eyes me. “Settling in?” he asks in a clipped tone.
“Yes,” I respond, damn well knowing that question was meant for Siro.
Renzo’s eyes narrow, and red blotches grow on his neck. His wife’s brows raise.
“A wife may be the only stability we’re allowed, but sometimes force is necessary.” Renzo turns his attention back to Siro.
The statement is meant to suggest Siro needs to tighten my leash, but I can’t overlook the reminder I’m the only constant Siro will ever have. The weight of his world is on my shoulders, and that is way more than I signed up for, but I don’t find it as scary as I should. There’s a twisted, selfish part of me that likes being his everything.
“Careful, Uncle. You know how I feel about interfering with others’ personal lives.” Siro’s voice takes on a cold tone.
“The Bratva are slaughtering our soldiers. Oscar Cesaro should have brought a truce with them to the table along with his offering of pussy.”
Tiff gasps and adverts her eyes to the ground, looking equally scandalized by the words “Bratva” and “pussy.”
I bristle and narrow my eyes at Renzo. He doesn’t seem to notice his wife’s or my reactions. He’s too focused on his nephew.
Well, there goes Siro’s boring night.
“Renzo, if you ever refer to my wife as her genitals or as an offering again, I will personally relocate you.” Siro takes a sip of his drink like this is a casual conversation. His Uncle turns redder by the second. “And from my understanding, in the last six months, the only men we’ve lost to the Bratva were in raidsyoucoordinated.”
“Maybe your Aunt and I should leave,” I suggest and throw back the remainder of my champagne.
Tiff’s eyes flick over to me, and her lips purse.
“Good idea.” Siro kisses my temple before dropping his arm from my waist.
I walk between the two men. Tiff follows me with short steps. A green tinge grows under her skin as we weave through the lingering guests and into the empty hall. I stop between the two rooms containing the party and ditch my empty glass on a side table.
“Should we send someone after them?” I ask her.
Tiff glares at me like I’m at fault. “No. They’re blood. They’ll talk it out like men.”
I nod slowly. “You alright?”
“Fine.” The smile she forces on her lips quivers like she’s exerting herself. “My husband just talked down to an Underboss in front of a crowd. Perhaps that’s acceptable where you’re from. But not here.”
Tiff’s nostrils flare as she turns away, walking down the hall and slipping behind a closed door.
A lanky man with bleach blond hair wearing a slim-fit navy suit steps out of the sitting room and looks in the direction Tiff disappeared in. He shakes his head, knocking several strands of hair loose from behind his ear. He freezes when he sees me.
His face gives him a boyish appearance, except for two parallel scars bisecting his lips at an angle. He breaches the distance between us in two long, silent steps and holds his hand out.
“Ari Tavano, your husband dragged you away before I could steal a dance at your wedding.” He flashes his perfect teeth at me.
I smile back and shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tavano.”
“Call me Ari. I’m too young for a Mister.” He leans to one side, peering over my shoulder and into the living room behind me. He rubs his mouth with his thumb. He turns around and frowns. “Was there someone else in the hall with you, or am I going nuts?”
“You’re not.”
