Matteo’s knife was still wedged in Bardoni’s fucking head. If someone entered the room now, we’d have to turn this Christmas party into a bloodbath. “Maybe you should pull your knife out of Bardoni’s head. Nobody will believe it was suicide with your blade stuck in his chin.”
Matteo carefully removed the knife and jumped back before blood could get on his clothes.
Romero pulled a high-caliber Smith & Wesson from a drawer in the cupboard behind the desk. “This could do.”
I nodded. Romero was my best soldier hands down. I knew why I’d chosen him to protect Aria, which reminded me that she was currently unguarded. “Good. Matteo and I will return to the party. Wait about five minutes before you blow his head off, then get the fuck out of here. Matteo and I will hopefully be here first, and in the commotion nobody will notice you are gone.”
Romero was already busy figuring out the best angle to shoot Bardoni and barely reacted when we slipped out of the room and closed the door. The annoying redhead stood at the end of the corridor.
“Make sure she doesn’t let something slip,” I muttered. “And we’ll have a talk about this fucking matter later.”
“Don’t worry. Gianna can lie if she has to.”
My eyes moved to Gianna. “Oh, I don’t doubt she can lie very well if she wants to. But she’s not exactly the most trustworthy person.”
“She’s my wife,” Matteo growled.
“That’s the problem,” I said as I walked away. Aria was clutching a wineglass in her hands, eyes filling with relief when she spotted me. She excused herself from a conversation with a young woman I couldn’t place and came toward me. I gripped her arm and she shot me a questioning look.
I couldn’t tell her what was going on with so many people around us. I led her toward the buffet table, making sure enough people saw us. “Luca,” she said quietly, body tense.
I gave a small shake of my head, and just then a loud shot rang out. Playing my part, I pulled my Beretta and whirled toward the direction of the noise. Aria’s body jerked against mine, fear flashing across her face. I leaned down to her ear. “Stay here. It’s nothing, trust me.”
I rushed toward Bardoni’s office with the other men, shoving some of them away to be at the front. Matteo, too, came running. “What’s going on?” he shouted.
Bardoni’s wife let out a high-pitched wail when she spotted her dead husband. It was a horrible attempt at acting.
When I returned to Aria later and met her worried gaze, I swore to myself that I would never have Aria see me like that, because I knew her agony would be real. I was leading a life full of death, and I didn’t exactly fear dying, but since Aria came into my life I had another reason to stay alive.Things went smoother than I’d hoped after the Bardoni incident. Bardoni’s wife and daughter didn’t seem to miss him, and his son was a sniveling coward who would never act on his own.
Of course, Bardoni’s Christmas party wasn’t the last time Matteo fucked up.
Business associates had invited us to their Christmas party five days before Christmas in a warehouse, which had been turned into a winter wonderland with fake snow and a bar carved out of ice. Matteo had been in a terrible mood all evening, because of Gianna, naturally. She refused to fall for his charm.
Aria sent me a placating look. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Now that I’d sent Matteo and Gianna away, that was maybe an option.
“Will you dance with me?” Aria asked, her expression hopeful and soft. If we hadn’t been surrounded by so many people, I would have kissed her, but as it was I gave a nod and pulled her against me. She released a small sigh as we began moving to the music.
“Will your sister ever come to terms with being married to my brother?” I asked quietly.
Aria raised her eyes. “I don’t know. I think she really likes him but she doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Why? Does she enjoy making everyone miserable so much?”
Aria pursed her lips, her steps faltering, but I steadied her. “That’s not it. She feels guilty for liking a man like Matteo.”
My lips twisted. “A man like Matteo?”
“Gianna thinks she will have blood on her hands if she accepts Matteo’s dark side. She feels guilty. She wants to be a good person.”
“What about you?” I murmured.
Aria’s brows drew together. Her hand traveled up my back until her palm pressed against the tattoo on my shoulder. “You know that I accept every part of you.”
“I know,” I said, lowering my voice even more. “But do you feel guilty because of it?”
“Guilty for loving you? No, never,” she said firmly, not a hint of doubt in her voice, and my chest swelled with love for the woman in my arms. “If that makes me a bad person, I don’t care.”