"Your sister is with Bastardi," he said bluntly, lifting his glass and swallowing the rest of the whiskey in one go. The alcohol burned a clean, familiar line down his throat.
Vee went still. "What next?" she asked.
"Patience, bambola. Patience." He set the empty glass down. "You are in the mafia now. You need to learn patience, or your blood pressure will be through the roof before you're thirty."
Vee forced herself to sit back, to breathe, to unclench her fists. If Luca said he had it handled, she should believe him. He was capable. More than capable. The legendary devil.
So why wasn't she relaxed?
She stood abruptly and crossed to the bar. She grabbed the bottle straight from its place of honor and carried it back.
"Careful, bambola. It's strong," Luca said mildly, watching her with narrowed eyes. There was a note of warning there, buried under the affection.
"Strong is good," she replied, pouring herself a generous glass. She downed it.
