CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SCARLETT’S POV
THREAT
He has absolutely no regard for his own life, that little t**t.
That’s the only conclusion I can come to as I sit across from Saul in this overly expensive restaurant, linen tablecloths and soft piano music doing nothing to mask the chaos inside my head. Just when exactly is Reed Valiente going to get it through his thick skull that Saul isn’t some playground bully with a big mouth and bruised ego?
He’s a mafia don.
And not the cinematic, romanticized kind either. Not the brooding antihero with a tragic backstory. Saul is the real thing. He is cold, calculating, and lethal in ways that don’t leave fingerprints.
Not that there’s ever a “good” kind.
My fork hovers over my plate, untouched steak cooling by the second as my thoughts spiral back t
