Page 32 of Autumn Ritual

Mamma shrugged as she stepped lightly to the arch and leaned against the frame. “It sounds like the don.”

Why would Lucian be here? On a Tuesday afternoon.

No…why is he shouting?

That was the better question.

Papà had never missed a cent. He was meticulous. The numbers were always accounted for, and it wasn’t like he made decisions about what to do with the money. Only once it was made and washed did he touch it, funneling it into foreign accounts where others could access it for projects or expenses. Running a killer-for-hire training facility wasn’t cheap. The equipment and connections the hitmen needed to carry out their assassinations cost another fortune.

“An arranged marriage!” Mamma gasped.

I shot to my feet, having heard the same thing. I flew down the hall, my mother hot on my heels. I paused at the door. I needed to make absolutely sure I was the subject of their conversation. My mother had no such compunction. She turned the handle, pushed open the door, and shoved me inside as she followed.

Lucian Ravello stared at his shoes.

I’d never seen the great and powerful crime boss with his head hung in defeat.

“Saverio?” Mamma snapped. “What is this about?”

Papà raked a hand through his hair, mussing up the gel that kept it combed in place. Strands flopped over his forehead. He was breathing hard, jowls puffing like a steam engine. “It’s fine, Sancia.”

Mamma planted her hands on her hips. “I thought we had an understanding.”

“We do,” my father assured her. “I was just reminding the don of that fact.”

Mamma rounded on Lucian, who had the grace to wince. “Are you trying to force our daughter’s hand?”

I opened my mouth—unsure if I was going to make peace or go to war—but I only croaked. Lucian was here to meddle.

“I came to see if matters had changed,” Lucian admitted carefully. With a deep breath, he lifted his head and glanced first at my mother, then at me. “Sara was supposed to stay in New York.”

“Just because her living arrangements changed, doesn’t mean the circumstances have,” Mamma said hotly.

Tired of them talking like I wasn’t in the room, I lifted my hands. “I’m just staying at my family’s cabin. I have no interest in joining your organization.”

That black gaze fixed on me. “Your personal life isn’t the issue. Not unless it involves one of mine. Are you willing to end things with Camillo?”

“Sara?” Mamma breathed. “What’s this?”

I decided to fight back. “Cam and I have always had a strong friendship—”

“He grew up next door,” my mother supplied helpfully.

“We’ve reconnected,” I continued carefully. “And while I’m not sure where this thing is going, I know that it isn’t up for discussion.”

“Camillo is important to me,” Lucian said, the fire coming back into his voice.

I scoffed. “Don’t you mean valuable?”

Those black eyes narrowed. “He’s important. He’s my friend. I won’t let him get hurt.”

“And you think my daughter will hurt him?” Papà laughed roughly. “She’s not even half his size dripping wet!”

Thanks, Papa. “Look, I would never hurt him. So, whatever you think is going on—”

Lucian cut me off with a snarl. “You hurt him once.”

My brows drew together. “What?” I shook my head. “When?” No, that wasn’t the right question either. “How?”