[Salvo's Pov]
I turned to leave, the scent of danger trailing behind me like the cologne on my jacket.
And then—
"My, my… what a lovely coincidence, Salvo."
That voice. That oily, condescending, sugar-laced venom of a voice.
I stopped mid-step.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was. The only thing that made my day worse than Alfio's silence was Don Carlo's voice in my f**ing ears*.
I turned anyway. Slowly. Because men like me don't flinch.
He stood near the bar like he owned it, wearing a silk suit stitched by trembling hands in Milan, probably dyed in someone's blood. Rings sparkled on his fingers—each one a trophy, a threat, a memory.
He smiled like we were old friends.
But Don Carlo's smile was a loaded gun disguised as a kiss.
"A coincidence?" I scoffed, stepping forward. "In my place?"
I let out a slow, dry chuckle.
"That's adorable, Carlo. You always did love pretending the bear trap wasn't your own doing."
He raised a hand. "Peace, Salvo. I came unarmed."
