Before I could walk away, Vittorio's fingers closed around my wrist again, white-knuckled. Like I was the last thing keeping him from drowning.
"Claudia. Please." His voice didn't sound like his own—scraped raw. This was the man who had ordered men killed without blinking. Who had looked a rival Don in the eye and smiled as he signed the man's death warrant. And now he was begging.
"I know I messed up. It was a mistake. A temporary weakness. You're the one I love. The only one."
I stopped walking. The cold wind cut through my thin shirt, but I barely felt it. "Enough."
I pulled out my phone, found the voice recording, and held it to his ear.
"She's not what you think. There's more to it than you know."
Vittorio's face went gray. He yanked off his apron. Still in his expensive Brioni
