6. Sal

"So.You know how to shop now too?"

I arch an eyebrow at her over the mounds of bags that have just been delivered to the house. "What do you mean?"

Gia, adorable in her messy bun and men's silk pajamas, drifts through the living room. She trails her fingers over some of the boxes there, reading the labels.

"Versace. Gucci. Chanel. Tom Ford. Don't tell me you've developed a shopping addiction with your real estate portfolio, Sal."

I chuckle. I like to dress well when the occasion calls for it, but most of my clothes are custom-made. I find that it's the only way to make sure that I'll actually fit in the clothes that I'm given, and I don't look like a total idiot in them.

Being sized the way I am is inconvenient. Especially in European clothes.

Access to tailors, however, is significantly stronger over here, so I am able to call up my favorite one in Amsterdam and order some of the same sizes and styles that I had the last time I was in town.

You win some, you lose some.

"Gia. You know that these are for you."

"Yeah, but I want to hear you say it."

This is another game. She likes the tug of power between us.

I shut my eyes. The memory of her responses to my brief commands are…

They press at my memory.

She's interested in being commanded.

In the sexual space that I occupy, a Dom learns to read his partners well.

It's important for a variety of reasons. The least important is that it has to be clear that you're giving your partner pleasure.

The most important is that I get off from the control, sure.

But I mostly like to see them when they scream for me.

I haven't had a partner in so long I feel like my head is foggy. I can't even remember the last woman who met my needs that way, but it was definitely before I met Gia.

Because when I met her, I decided that I wanted to try to live differently. I wanted to at least put an effort into something that felt a little more normal.

Because I thought that's what Gia would want.

Then, she cut off any possibility of a future between us.

Now…

I don't even know about now.

I know that she liked it. I could see it in her body language.

But I don't know what that means for us.

"Gia," I say in a low voice that I would use if she was bound before me. "This obscene display of textiles and wealth is for you."

"Aw, thanks sweetie," she says with a smirk.

The comment floats somewhere in between us. It isn't a truth, and it isn't an untruth.

But it's an impossibility.

"Get dressed," I say, not even excited about giving the order. "We need to leave."

Gia pouts slightly. "Why?"

"Whoever it is might be in Amsterdam."

"All the more reason to stay and find them," she says with a glint in her eyes.

I tense. "Gia…"

"Elio said we had his blessing to do whatever as long as we don't fuck anything up," Gia sighs. "Come on. Let's hang around town a little. We'll put on disguises and go to the clubs and bars where the rest of the underworld meets and see what we can come up with."

"Is it going to go the same way as it did in Prague?"

She frowns. "What's wrong with that? We had a solid lead, and we found out that Marco was definitely at that bar."

"Definitely?"

Gia cocks out her hip and tilts her head. "You didn't hear that cop talking about the De Luca kid?"

"You can't think that was Marco."

"What other De Luca defends one of their siblings with a secret kid?"

I shake my head. "She didn't say kid. She said kids, plural. There are no secret De Luca kids, plural, especially from Dino or I. Only Luna."

Gia studies me. "Sal, you know by now that one lie becomes another really fast."

"I know." That's basic investigation.

"So. You don't think Dino has something to hide?"

I still. "You can't think this has to do with the reason he sold Caterina and Luna out to the Irish."

"I one hundred percent think that."

"Dino doesn't have any kids. Secret or otherwise."

"You know that for sure?"

I stare at her.

Out of the four of us, Dino is… different.

Where Caterina, Marco, and I seemed to get some kind of obedience gene when it came to our parents, he almost skipped it.

It's more than that. Dino looks different than we do. His skin is darker, eyes greener. There's been more than one person who's commented behind closed doors that Dino doesn't look like my father's son.

My father often had those people killed right after they made those comments, but that never stopped them.

It just slowed them down.

Slightly.

Gia nods. "See. I knew you weren't sure."

"That has nothing to do with the fact that Dino is… Dino," I say. "He's my brother. Marco, Dino, and I don't keep secrets from each other."

"But you keep them from Caterina?"

Gia's voice is more than a little dangerous.

"No, I don't keep them from Caterina either," I say.

Caterina is my little sister, and she's the baby of all of us.

That doesn't, however, mean that she's less capable or less intelligent. She passed all of her CPA exams about a month after graduating college, and on top of that, she's whip-smart.

She's loving, caring, and all the things that I wish I was.

We don't keep secrets from her.

Honestly, the fact that I left her out of my initial assessment… makes me feel a little weird.

Gia shrugs. "All I'm saying is that I love Elio, but he's his own person. He has his secrets. There's a lot I don't want to know about him. And there's a lot that I do know about him, even though he thinks I don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Gia leans over and plays with one of the bows on a Chanel box.

"It means that I know him. I love him. But I'd never in a million years think that I can, or should, count on him to behave the way I want him to. Elio is Elio. He's my brother, and he's my twin.

"He's not the person I'm going to count on when things get hard. I'm always going to have backup so that I can ensure the outcome that I want."

It"s a little chilling. "So, who would you count on, Gia?"

"Myself."

"That sounds lonely."

"It's not, Sal. It's realistic."

It still sounds lonely. Caterina, Dino, Marco, and I might have our issues, but we'll always be there for each other.

Dino's recent actions, however, pop into my mind.

He sold Caterina and Luna out.

I sigh. "Fine. I agree with you. They were talking about Marco."

"You think Dino has kids somewhere?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," I say sadly. The fact that my older brother, who is only ten months ahead of me, would have a secret that big makes me feel more than a little hurt.

But I guess it's not like I told him anything about Gia. Or any of the other secrets I've kept for years.

My stomach twists uncomfortably.

I'm not sure what to feel.

"Fine," I mutter. "Tonight, we go see if we can scrape anything out of the low lives of this city to help us find a lead."

There's a lot to find out. The stuff with Marco is one thing. The fact that someone tried to kill Gia and me, and successfully killed the Russians?

That's also a lot.

"We're going to need a disguise," I grunt.

Gia beams. "Well. I think we did pretty good back in Prague. Speaking of, how's your Dutch?"

Excellent.

"Fine."

"Good. You'll do the talking then. I'm passable, but I sound like an American trying to speak Dutch."

I snort. "Your Russian is flawless."

"As it should be. I studied it for ten years."

My eyebrows go up. "Ten years?"

"Yep. That and ballet. I was convinced that the only way I could separate myself from Elio in my dad's eyes was to be a ballerina. And the Russian ballet? It's the best in the world." Gia smirks.

Trust Gia to think that she, an Italian girl who grew up partly in the US and partly in Italy, could join the Russian ballet.

"That's impressive."

"So is your ability to just… speak other languages," Gia says.

I can tell she's needling again. "Fine. How about this? I tell you how many languages I speak, and you leave me alone about my real estate money."

"Deal," Gia announces way too quickly.

She's definitely going to still ask me. Still, I made a bargain. "I'm fluent in Italian, French, Czech, German, and Spanish. I can get by in Russian. I can understand Japanese, but I can't say shit, and I can order food in Chinatown, or in Beijing. My Farsi is terrible, and I would do well to never speak Portuguese in my life. Oh—and Latin," I add, remembering the language that my mother painstakingly had me learn.

It was important to her, I guess.

Gia's jaw drops. "Holy shit. What are you, some kind of language prodigy?"

"I believe the term is polyglot."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

I shrug. "Languages come easily for me."

It's true. My whole life, I've been able to pick up languages exceedingly quickly.

It's more than just learning the words and phrases. I can discern the meaning of things, understand what it sounds like when people say it in their native language. I get colloquialisms. I understand nuances that others don't.

I'm just good at it.

Gia shakes her head. "Marco wasn't utilizing you well enough."

"Oh? How would you do any different?"

"I'm not sure," she sighs. "But I'd definitely have you out there with me in the world, putting that tongue to good use."

She smirks at me.

"Gia…"

"Which brings me to my next point. For cover. We did do well in the club in Prague. So. I'm thinking a couple again. You get to pick, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife."

Wife.

If there was a world where I could call Gia my wife, I'd live there in a heartbeat.

Even pretending, it's almost too painful. It's too close to something that I want. I can't pretend to be her husband.

Not when I want it so badly.

"No, Gia."

"Oh, come on," she says with a sigh. "We did good at that. We worked well together."

"We did."

"So why not?"

I can't do this.

Pretending to be Gia's husband is going to kill me.

"Gia…"

"It's the only way. Let's get dressed and think on it.

I open my mouth to protest, but before I do, the security system dings.

Flying over to the camera, I peer outside.

There's no one.

But there's something on the front step.

Unfortunately, she's running to the front door before I can say anything.

When we get to it, I open the door and snatch the package, running into the garden with it.

If there's a bomb, I'm not blowing up my fourth-favorite house.

"Stay back," I bark at Gia.

She gets behind me.

Slowly, I look at the small package. I hold it up gently, hoping that there are no tripwires hidden anywhere around it.

"What is it?"

I turn it over. "A package."

"Okay, I can see that with my own eyes, Sherlock. What's inside?"

"I'm not opening it."

I hear Gia huff from behind me. "Oh my god, Sal. Just open it."

"It could be a bomb." Or Anthrax, or any number of other powdered viruses.

"It's hot heavy enough to be a bomb."

"Gia…" I growl.

"Seriously. Just take a peek," she says from behind me.

Fine. "Take five steps back. Actually, get behind the garden wall." I jerk my head at the concrete brick wall in the garden.

"Whatever." She gives me a very annoyed look but slinks behind the cement structure.

I take a deep breath. Slowly, I unfold the edges of the package. I pull them back, holding it as far away from myself as possible—then, I turn it.

"What's in there?"

I frown. "It's…empty."

"No, it's not. Shake it."

Gently, I shake the box. A small metallic object drops out, appearing in my hand.

"It's a USB drive," I say.

Gia's out from the wall and next to me in an instant. "Okay. Let's go look at it."

"We don't have a computer," I respond dumbly.

She rolls her eyes. "Cash out one of the French castles and buy one."

I don't need to do that. I have plenty of liquid assets, so I grab the USB drive and her hand. "Let's go."

Less than an hour later, we're back, with a shiny new computer in the bag.

"It's alarming to me that you're not using the Rossi business credit card," Gia says. She narrows her eyes at me. "How much are you worth?"

"Only someone who is annoyingly rich would ask that question."

"Only someone annoyingly rich would refuse to answer it," she retorts.

I'm not going to tell her. It's enough that the computer and all of her new outfits went on a credit card with no limit, that I can pay off without blinking, in a heartbeat.

I don't answer.

Instead, I turn the computer on and plug it in. Connected to my secure Wi-Fi, I put the USB drive in.

The screen goes black.

"Fuck," Gia mutters behind me. "Did it come pre-loaded with a virus?"

"Maybe." It's a good thing this computer isn't connected to any of the usual servers, and just the Wi-Fi that's localized to the house.

The screen flickers.

It's security footage.

Gia and I both lean in.

The footage is grainy, but we can see. It looks like it's inside a bar of some kind. No, a pub. The ceiling is low, the room is dark, and it looks exactly like many of the pubs I've been in across the British Isles.

It's definitely a cell phone video. The video jostles around, and I can see that whoever is holding the camera is trying to do so without showing their hand.

Interesting.

The camera is blurry for a minute before finally focusing on something.

A person.

Two people.

A man and a woman, sitting together at a table. The man reaches forward, holding the woman's hand…

The camera finally focuses.

Next to me, Gia sucks in a breath.

I know why.

The man in the video, looking happier than I've ever seen him look in his entire life?

It's my brother.

Marco.