Something inside me twisted.
Keeping my voice light, almost casual, I asked, "Was that the fight over Liliana?"
"Adriana, don't start." Dante didn't even hesitate. His tone hardened instantly, the warmth from moments ago vanishing without a trace. "She's my courier. If someone disrespects her and I do nothing, what do you think that says about me in front of the Family?"
I said nothing.
He continued, his voice edged with irritation now. "You're a Falcone. You don't have to deal with this kind of crap. But she's not you."
It had been a simple question. Nothing more than that.
And yet, somehow, it had still managed to provoke him.
I fell silent, letting the words settle between us like something heavy and unspoken.
Even so, the tension lingered. He was still annoyed.
After a moment, he spoke again, more curt this time. "Take me to the club. I've got business to finish."
I glanced at him through the mirror once more.
There had been a time when I would have worried. I would have told him to go home, to rest, to stop pushing himself so hard. I would have reached for him, tried to bridge the distance.