Page 5 of The Broker
And I intend to keep my vow.
“None of my men barge into danger with such a reckless disregard for their own safety,” I snap. “And all of my men are trained. They know how to defend themselves.”
“Perfect,” she bites out, screeching to a halt inches away from my Ferrari. “I’ll sign up for shooting lessons. I’m sure Leo will train me in no time.”
Leo chooses that moment to speak up. “Leave me out of it,” he says in our earpieces. “I want no part of your lover’s quarrel.”
Valentina snorts out loud. “Not even if he was the last man on Earth, Leo.”
I roll my eyes. “Because men are lining up to date stubborn women who refuse to see good sense. Trust me, sparrow. I feel the same way.”
3
VALENTINA
Imeet my friend Rosa for dinner that evening. Rosa Tran is twenty-five and an insanely talented fashion designer with a boutique in my neighborhood. She’s already at the restaurant when I arrive. “Your best friend is in town,” she says once we’re done with greetings. “I’m surprised you still have time for me.”
Lucia Petrucci, my best friend since high school, is back in Venice after ten years, working at the Palazzo Ducale on a three-month contract. The week after she arrived, she decided to steal a priceless masterpiece from Antonio Moretti, the head of the Venetian Mafia. I thought she had gotten herself into serious trouble and was prepared to rush into the padrino’s office and advocate for her, but shockingly, I didn’t need to. The painting is a distraction. The two of them are attracted to each other and dancing around it.
Luciaisone of my best friends. But then, so is Rosa.
I give her an exasperated look. “Are we still in high school?” Rosa has reasons for her insecurity, but she has nothing to worry about with me. “Don’t you start with me. It’s not a competition between you and Lucia, and you know it.”
My friend makes a face. “Sorry. Bad habit. So, the farmhouse, how did it go?”
Rosa knows I work for the Mafia. About six months ago, her landlord started to jerk her around after she sank all her savings into opening her new boutique. I got Daniel, the lawyer we have on retainer, involved. I don’t share many details with her about what I’m working on—it’s best if she doesn’t know the particulars—but I did tell her I would be in Bergamo today.
“Dante showed up.”
“He did?” She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Wasn’t he supposed to be in Milan?”
“That’s what I thought,” I say grouchily. Okay, fine. Dante might have been right about me waiting for him to leave Venice before suggesting the trip to the farmhouse. “Unfortunately, I was wrong. He roared up in his Ferrari at the last minute, ordered Andreas out of the car, and informed me that he was going to be my bodyguard.”
Rosa’s mouth falls open. “No, really? And then what happened?”
“Three guards showed up out of nowhere, and Dante took care of it.” I barely had time to be afraid before they were rendered helpless. Even more annoying, I found his competence incredibly hot.
She pretends to swoon. “I think he likes you.”
“I think he likes to tell me what to do.” I fall silent as Franca walks over to take our order. I get my usual lasagna, Rosa orders a salad, and I continue once the waitress is out of earshot.
“Do you know what he said to me on the way back to Venice? That I was taking an unnecessary risk and should have known better. And then, heforbademe from going on any more field missions without his express permission.” Thinking about the encounter sets my blood pressure skyrocketing. “Have I mentioned I hate him? Because I do.”
My friend tilts her head to the side. “I’m not defending Dante here, but isn’t he right?”
My conscience prickles. “Okay, maybe I was a little too eager to go to the farmhouse, but can you blame me? Dante treats me like I’m made of glass, and I’m tired of it. I just want to be one of the guys.”
“But you’re not one of them, Valentina,” she points out. “None of the men can hack into computer systems the way you can. You don’t need to bash in people’s faces to be valuable to the organization. Why are you comparing yourself with them?”
“If the fashion designer thing doesn’t work out, you could always become a therapist,” I grumble. “I don’t know why, okay?”
Except I’m lying. I do know why; I just don’t want to say it out loud. Roberto is dead; Antonio Moretti killed him before Angelica was born. But when Dante sees me, he still sees the girl in the hospital.
And itstings.I’m not a victim. I refuse to let myself be defined by an abusive relationship that happened ten years ago. I’ve left that version of me in the past.
But Dante can’t see it.He refuses to see me.
“Enough about me. What’s going on with you?”