“And Leone wasn’t on the stage with Nuncio?” he asks after I’m done.
“No. He was standing to the side, by the drinks table.”
Silence falls between us, the metal on metal tapping the only sound in the room.
“Leone wants to marry me off. He still hasn’t decided whether it’ll be someone from the Albanian organization or Salvo.”
“Good. I’ll make sure he picks Salvo.”
“I’m not marrying him, Massimo. Or anyone else.” I lift my eyes from his hands and meet his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes widen. “Who’s the father?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Massimo lunges forward so suddenly that I flinch back in my chair. “Some bastard got my sister pregnant, and it doesn’t matter?” he roars, pulling on the chains.
“No. He’s not from the Family.”
“Is he going to marry you?”
“No. He’s . . .” What the f**k
