Leo’s eyes widen as if he’s surprised by my knowledge of this arranged marriage. “Oh right,” he smiles, “you met the girl.”
“Answer my question.”
Leo leans back in his chair and places his hands on the armrest. His lips purse. “Gambling debt. He bet too much at the racetrack.”
“That wouldn’t be a debt to you, it would be one to the familia.”
Leo nods. “Of course, sir. However, I paid his debt myself, in exchange for the girl.” His lips lift into a strained smile. “It was an excellent arrangement for him, given the girl’s new status and all.”
Lorenzo leans forward in his chair. “You chose a low-levelRussiangirl, ourrivals,to marry your son?”
“I like to think of them asallies, given the peace we’ve kept all these years, but I assure you it is in no way a betrayal to the familia. The girl isn’t even full-blood Russian, the mother was European or something. I chose her because she’s astoundingly beautiful.” Leo nods at me. “Settimo knows.”
“DonSettimo,” Anthony corrects.
Leo holds up his hands apologetically. “Don Settimo.”
I do know. Alexa is… well, let’s just say if, gun to the head, I had to choose a bride, it would be her. Italian or not.
Lorenzo looks to me in search of an explanation that I have no intention of offering.
My blood starts to boil, and I push off the desk. “I’ll take all of that into consideration and discuss it with my underboss.”
I wave toward the door. Blade stands and leaves without another word, and Leo heads for the exit as well.
“Leo?” I say, stopping him.
He turns and cups his hands in front of him.
“Syrus isn’t here anymore.”
His lips twitch, but he nods. He’s showing all the necessary respectful posture, but his eyes hint at anything but.
“Of course… Don Settimo.”
He turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. I eye Anthony. “You too.”
He narrows his eyes. “What?”
“I want to speak with Lorenzo alone. I’m fully aware of your opinion.”
He huffs and shakes his head, his muscles tightening. With his jaw clenched, he stands and stomps from the room, leaving the door open as he leaves.
Lorenzo gets up, walks to the door, and kicks it closed. “The temper tantrums with that one,” he tsks disapprovingly, but I can tell he’s amused.
I am too.
I laugh and walk around my desk. I plop into my chair and rub my temples, my head hanging.
“I wish I could kill Leo,” I say.
“And I wish you would.”
I look up at Lorenzo. His face is blank, his lips in a thin line. His eyes hold an emptiness in them that reminds me so much of our father. I wish he would make an expression so I could fucking gauge what he’s thinking.
“Is that a joke?” I ask.
He shakes his head.