Salvatore

9

"What the absolute fuck was that?" Saintes voice booms through the room. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

"He was being a dick!" I defend.

"I don't care what he was doing! You can't just go around shooting my men like that!"

"It's not like I killed him! He's fine!"

"He's injured, Sofia! He'll be out of the running for god knows how long!"

"Does it matter? You have plenty of guys to replace him!"

"You have no loyalty to this family!"

"Why would I when it's filled with guys like him?" I argue. "He shouldn't be allowed in this family in the first place!"

"What's that supposed to mean? You think he doesn't deserve to be here because you disagree?"

"No! because he's a fucking creep!" I insist.

"Then you come to me and I take care of it!"

"You wouldn't have done anything!"

"That's bullshit and you know it! We protect our women in this family, Sofia! We don't go around shooting each other for no reason!" he walks to the other side of his desk—his new desk.

"I had a reason!"

"Did you? Because so far, I'm yet to hear a good one!"

"I told you, he was being a creep!"

"What was he doing?"

"He was saying all this shit about me!" I blurt. "He said I should go to the kitchen because I can't fight!"

"You can't fight!"

"But he was being so awful about it! He started talking about my weight and how you shouldn't be the only one to have me—like I was some sex object he wanted to pass around!"

"Don't lie to me, Delfino. He's one of my best men!"

"Well, he's a fucking perv," I state, collapsing down in the seat across from him. He remains standing, his eyes full of fury. His frown deepens, even more wrinkles forming on his forehead. He clenches his jaw. I wound give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

"Makris!" he calls out to Jordan. "Get in here!"

"Yes, boss?" Jordan sticks his head through the crack in the door.

"Head down to medical. When Rossi wakes up, tell him he's being transferred to Chicago."

"What?" I sit up straight.

"I told you I would take care of it," he says, but I'm not pleased at all.

"You're just going to transfer him?" I ask. "He's just going to creep on the girls there!"

"What else would you like me to do, Sofia? Kill him?"

"If that's what it takes, yes!"

"You can't be serious," he snickers. "Have you ever killed someone before?"

"No," I state. "But I know you have."

"Of course I have."

"Then what's the problem?"

"You don't want this, Sofia," he sits down in his own chair, motioning for Jordan to leave the room. "You don't want someone's death on your conscience."

"Isn't that what Imm here for? I'm meant to lead this family, right? I'm sure that involves a murder or two."

"I wouldn't expose you to that. I'd take care of the dirty work."

"But it would still be on my conscience, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Then do it," I push. He shakes his head at me.

"You don't know what you're saying, Sofia."

"I'm serious, Sainte," I insist. "He's been a dick to me my entire life, and he's just going to do the same to whatever women he encounters in Chicago."

"Is that what this is about?" he asks. "You two have some kind of history?"

"That's one way to put it," I scoff.

"Tell me what happened."

"No," I shake my head. "You don't need to know."

"Clearly, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Sofia," he sighs. "If I kill this man, whatever your problem with him is... it's not going to go away."

"But it will make me feel better."

I know he's right, but I stand by what I said. This family needs to be safe for girls, and with men like David around, that's never going to happen. He made my childhood a living hell, and now as an adult, he's treating me like an object. And knowing that he's out there, treating other women the same way when I could've stopped it.... I can't live like that.

And this is the mafia, for god's sake. People die all the time. The average life expectancy is, like... 40. And if I marry Sainte, I'll be doing this regularly. I may as well start somewhere.

"How are you going to feel about this if this doesn't work out?" he asks. "If we part ways and you head back to New York?"

That won't be happening. At least, I doubt it will. Sainte and I bonded last night, and I can actually see this working out. I'm not just here for the business. I'm here because Sainte wants me here. He picked me. The boss picked me. He wants to be with me, and I get to choose whether that happens or not.

"I don't want to be in a family where men like David get to roam free," I say. And if I stay here, I will do as much as I can to make sure the men in this family learn to value women as they're supposed to.

"He doesn't have to," Saints says. "There are other things I can do. I can transfer him to a low-ranking position. We need men in transport right now."

"That works," I nod. "But he can't do it alone. He has to have a supervisor or something to keep him in check."

"No problem," he glances at his computer screen, typing something into the machine. "He'll be doing long-haul trucking with Stefan Alessandro."

"Good," I nod. He's friendly. I went to high school with one of his daughters. He used to volunteer as a driving instructor.

"And Sofia?"

"Hmm?" I meet Saintes eyes. To my surprise, they look a lot more open than they did before.

"Let me take care of it next time, okay?"

"We'll see," I tease.

"I'll take that as a yes," he doesn't laugh. "And wear a dress tonight. We're going to a gala."

"A gala?" I smile. "What time?"

"Whenever you're ready."

"Good."

It's already 3 pm and I have a lot of getting ready to do.