His light snuffles told me I hadn’t woken him, so when I took the empty seat in the corner of the room, lifted it and placed it by his bedside, I lowered myself into it, resting my ankle on my knee. I fished my zippo lighter out of my jacket pocket and began the habit I picked up in my teen years of flicking it open, watching it light, then flicking it closed again.

Each time it lit, the soft glow of the flame caused his features to shadow. A minute of this and I noticed him stir. Slowly, at first, and then when he became aware that he wasn’t the only person in the room, he shot up in panic as I flicked open my lighter and left the flame burning.

In alarm, he panted out a hoarse, “What the hell?”

“Good morning, Como.”

Flick, flick. Flick, flick.

Como Vero reached over to the bedside lamp and when he turned it on, the room was bathed in warm light. And the older man blinked at me. “Scala?” He seemed confused. Weren’t we all. “What are you doing here?”

Flick, flick. “You and I need to have a little chat.” Flick, flick.

“About what?”

Flick, flick. “Boundaries.” Flick, flick. Pause.

The pad of my thumb rested along the hinge of my lighter as the irony of what I’d just said settled over me. And once it had, I reached into my pocket, took out the nondescript USB and tossed it at him. He didn’t bother to catch it.

My anger simmered as I began to speak. “You stand in front of that girl on her wedding day, in a room full of the only people she had left in the world and you tell her she’s dead to you.” My head tilted as I continued to stare at the man. “And now you feel it’s acceptable to put her to work?” Flick, flick. I shook my head. “No. That’s not happening.”

“What’s it to you?” Como, the moronic fuck, had the balls to ask.

“What’s it to me?” Flick, flick. My gaze hooded on him. “That’s my wife.”

“Oh, please,” Como returned heatedly. “You didn’t want this marriage.”

Flick, flick. He wasn’t wrong there, but I hoped what I said would soon sink in. “Yeah, well, she didn’t either and I’m the husband she got. So, when I say this shit isn’t happening, it isn’t happening.”

The thin ice he was walking on got even thinner when he actually tried to defend himself. “Vittoria has always done this.”

Flick, flick. “Not anymore.”

My anger became molten fury when he said, “She’s the only person I trust to run the books.”

The next flick of my lighter had the flame dancing in my hand. My gaze dimmed when I snarled, “And now she’s dead to you.”