I fully expected to see Victor after the ceremony. Or at the very least, at the cemetery. But he’d left before the service ended. Disappointment mingled with relief as I stood at Dominic’s side while he greeted the mourners, shaking hands, making subtle comments about being back now. Nodding when anyone said anything about Franco Benedetti.

Behind us, calla lilies covered Dominic’s mother’s and Sergio’s graves. I didn’t miss the look either brother gave those two headstones.

Salvatore and Lucia stood in the same line and beside them, Roman, looking more anxious than grieved. My gaze traveled over the soldiers circling the gathered mourners, but when I heard the familiar sound of Angus Scava clearing his throat, I turned to look up at the older man.

“Gianna.”

He took both of my hands in his, making a point of turning them over.

“Mr. Scava,” I said. He’d always called me by my full name.

“You look well.”

His gaze momentarily landed on Dominic before he touched my ring finger.

Did he think we were engaged?

“So soon after James’ death,” he added.

“James died two years ago, Mr. Scava.”

“Scava,” Dominic said from beside me, his arm circling my waist. “Where’s your nephew?”

Angus Scava’s face hardened. “He had to take care of some business.”

“He took care of some business close to home, and I don’t appreciate it,” Dominic said, tugging on the cuff of his shirt.

“No. Nor do I. He will be dealt with.”

“He kil—” I started, anger rising.

“I’ll do the dealing,” Dominic said, cutting me off.

They were talking about Mateo’s death, about my kidnapping, like it was nothing.

Scava looked at Dominic. They stood the same height, eye to eye, two powerful men unafraid of battle. Beside them, Salvatore watched, dark and dangerous.

“Gentlemen,” Roman began, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now is neither the time nor the place.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened as he turned his face to his uncle. He no longer tried to hide his resentment of the older man.

Mr. Scava watched the confrontation, a small smile playing along his lips.

“What time is the reading of the will, Uncle?” Dominic asked through gritted teeth.

Roman checked his watch. “Within the hour. We should go.”

Dominic nodded then turned to Scava. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“Certainly not,” the older man said. “Gianna, pleasure to see you looking so…recovered.”

Dominic’s fingers dug into the skin of my arm.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Mr. Scava watched Dominic lead me away, the look in his eyes so different to how he’d looked at me before.

“Was James like his father?” Dominic asked as we climbed into the SUV, Salvatore and Lucia taking the backseat.

Why did it feel like a taunt? “James was nothing like him.”

Dominic turned to face me. “He would have been boss of the family had he survived.”