Chapter Five Larissa #2
“We first met as children because our fathers go back decades.” I take another pull on the bottle to steady myself.
Antony being the subject I want to discuss the least. “A few clicks on his family background and you’ll know exactly why Ciro decided on him.
As old-school as Ciro is on Italian blood, it’s Antony’s blood that’s far more fucking prevalent in this relationship.
That’s saying a lot.” I let that linger.
“Traditions or not, he’s forced us alone several times since our courtship started, and I can tell you he’s changed drastically from the toothless seven-year-old I played with in my backyard. ”
“Handsy?” Tyler asks.
“Tried to be one too many times,” I say. “To everyone else, he’s reserved and in control, but he’s very affected by me. Possessive, to put it mildly.”
“And when you’re not putting it mildly?”
I hesitate as Tyler reads my expression. “Obsessed?” he asks.
I twist my lips. “I guess that could be the word. He wants the marriage.”
Tyler gives no reaction. “I already have his details.”
“He has homes in—”
“Montauk, Santorini, Mykonos, to name a few. I just told you I have his fucking details,” he snaps.
“Only what’s legally recorded,” I snap back. “He’s most likely got real estate in every state, either in a trust, shell corps, friend’s names, or untraceable family names, and a private landing pad in every fucking country. Do you want to continue to be an asshole, or do you want to be thorough?”
“I have those too.”
“Good for you. But I promise you’ve missed something, and with Antony, you can’t miss anything. Hear me when I say he needs to go down with Ciro. He’s slippery in a way that, if his true nature is ever unveiled and you haven’t cornered him, you will not fucking find him, Tyler.”
He mulls over that. “So what’s with the campaign? Why thrust himself into the spotlight and paint a picture in the public eye now?”
“You tell me. Ciro thinks he’s got his eye on politics.”
“And you?”
“Choosing me as his bride should tell you it’s not politics.
” I glance at Antony’s picture. “Anyone who believes in the Antichrist and has seen this man’s true nature would believe he fits the bill.
I think he’s got his eye on everything. He’s brilliant but purposely dumbs himself down in certain company, and the company he keeps is diverse.
He’s got lunch dates with globally recognized artists and entrepreneurs, but no one whose net worth is less than his own.
His dinner dates are with physicists. He’s got his hands in several pots and is the quietest in the room at all times.
No … he’s playing some sort of long game and—” I shake my head at the memory of Antony’s expression the last time we were alone together.
Tyler quirks a brow in prompt. “Ciro is one thing, but predictably so. But Antony, he rattles me, truly rattles me, and I’m not so easily rattled anymore. ”
“Agree to disagree.”
I pause the water bottle at my lips. “I get it. You hate me. I’m guilty by association, guilty for breathing. Guilty, period, for whatever reasons you’re justifying being so obnoxiously apparent about. Which also disappoints me, but we have to work together. Can we, at the least, aim for civility?”
“Guess you don’t heed warnings.” He lifts his eyes briefly above the edge of the laptop. “I told you I was not going to make this pleasant. You’ve been back for what, three months? How much damage could he have done?”
“I don’t know, Tyler. How much damage can be done during a mission as a Marine in mere seconds?”
“Don’t fucking compare us,” he warns. “There’s none to make.”
“I’m simply giving you a point of reference.”
He kicks back in his seat, waiting for further details on Antony, but I don’t bother with any more of what I endured while at his mercy.
I survived the encounters through sheer will alone, and that’s enough.
The man across from me hates me because of my name, and there is no changing that today—possibly ever.
Gaining any empathy would be a feat, but I don’t want it.
“Let’s get back to your family.”
“Well, that was subtle,” I snap. “You think I’m heartless to betray my family in such a way,” I state without need of confirmation. “Because you are a man so fiercely loyal you could never do such a thing.”
Without reply, he remains idle at his keyboard. Had I imagined him capable of so much tenderness? It was only two nights ago that his warm brown eyes shone down on me with mind-blowing heat, his touch so tender it took my breath away.
“Nevada, Toronto, and New York are where he gets most of his mileage at the moment,” I tick off before immediately rattling off the addresses in order.
This seems to surprise him as he furiously types. “You memorized the addresses?”
“I have thirty-seven of them.” I tap my temple. “I was thorough. But you are capable of getting them without me, right? I mean, you have access to the intelligence databases—”
“I prefer to see to things myself,” he interrupts.
“No … that’s not it.” I pause, as do his fingers on the keyboard.
“You prefer to get them from me to validate if I’m being truthful,” I surmise.
“The same reason I didn’t conveniently write this all down for you,” I emphasize, my own security measure firmly in place.
There’s no trust. None. “Tell me, Tyler, have you figured out my angle? Where are my lies thus far?”
“Where did you get this intel?” he counters.
“My father’s records, Tula, and personal experience. Remember, I lived with Ciro for sixteen years, and I was recently taken to two of Antony’s homes while being courted. We left from a private hangar in Newark the last time we flew out. I paid a lot of attention to my surroundings.”
“What else did being courted consist of?”
“You’ve never been on a date?”
He gives me that same emotionless stare.
God, to get that heat back, just once. “Well, from what I gather of normal girls,” I continue, “courting consists of dinner and conversation. If it goes well, it can escalate to phone conversations and movies, and sometimes a good night kiss … other times, fucking.”
Tyler’s eyes hold mine. “And did it?”
“Is that necessary for this?”
Blink.
“Ah, I see what you’re doing,” I tell him.
“Not consensually, no. Italian courting is chaperoned to keep the bride pure, but of course, Ciro was loose with that tradition. Probably as punishment to me for not being abstinent. Sadly, Antony wanted to start our honeymoon early, so to prevent that, I might have barricaded my suite door after our last date.”
I pause and feel his eyes back on me, deciding to give him a little more of what I endured.
“And I might have accidentally stabbed him in the thigh with my steak knife. Oops.” I raise my shoulders in innocence.
“It was just the tip. He forgave me, but made it clear that he considered it foreplay. The next day, Ciro gave me a stern warning with a fatherly backhand before diplomatically suggesting that Antony and I part ways until the wedding. Antony sent flowers.” I sip more water.
“Let’s be done with him. I certainly am, but I would like to make his downfall equally imminent, if I can add that to my tall order. ”
“I’ll put it in the margin of my notes,” he drawls sarcastically.
“How will you note it? Poor mafia princess avoids premarital assault?”
As hard and indifferent as he’s acting—without even the slightest hint of empathy—I can tell it bothers Tyler to hear these things. Not because of what I think I know, but because of the change in energy across the table. His increased hostility isn’t for me. It’s for Antony.
“This bothers you,” I say.
“You and everything related to you bothers me.”
I blow out a breath. “I know who you are.”
“Assumptions from afar—you have no fucking idea who I am, Larissa.”
“Fine. I know what you’re about, and it’s most definitely not hurting women. Have you researched me any further?”
“Not much more than I plan on getting from the source. Devout Catholic.”
“I attended mostly out of respect for Tula and because I needed some social interaction. It can get boring spending every day on an olive grove.”
“What? No boys around to rut their cock into you?”
His eyes hold mine.
“Is that relevant?”
“Answer the question, Larissa.”
“Not really, but I did lick a priest’s finger during communion once.” I shrug. “I guess you could say he was my first crush.”
Not even a blink. “How many of your father’s men are in love with you?”
“Ah, is this to see if we have anyone we can use? Pointless, all of them would gladly put a bullet in my head if ordered to do so.”
He taps his fingers on the table as he speaks, posture relaxing a fraction. “Who in the family does have loyalty to you?”
“Marcos.”
He starts to type. “Last name?”
“DiCicco, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“He’s our German Shepherd, though very old.”
“Jesus,” Tyler snaps before typing. “All right, let’s go with Ciro’s security detail in Asheville.”
“Can I ask you one question?”
“No,” he dismisses.
“Tyler,” I whisper, and he slowly drags his eyes away from the screen.
I see it then, his resolution and utter unwillingness to consider me as a human being.
I nod and acquiesce. “Okay, Ciro’s security.
” I finger the charm on my necklace, and Tyler’s eyes follow the movement.
“He has eighteen guards on the grounds total, and adds more by the day. He’s become a paranoid recluse. ”
“Who gave that to you?”
I massage the charm between my fingers. “My cousin, the morning I left Barga.”
“To ward off evil,” Tyler scoffs.
“Yes, I can see how you would find that ironic with how you perceive my family and me,” I tell him. “Speaking of, we haven’t discussed what I’ll tell my father yet. He’s due a call.”
Tyler stands and walks over to his kitchen drawer, pulling out a burner before clicking a few things on his laptop and turning the screen to me. “Here is your script for tonight.”
I scan the text, nod, and make the call.
Masterfully laid out, the script aids me immensely, giving Ciro just enough to keep him satisfied and baited while buying me more time between calls.
The verbiage establishes my independence to complete my mission, with the caveat that I’ll only be contacting him moving forward when I have a pressing update.
It also helps that I’m expected to accomplish this mission entirely on my own, involving as little of the family as I can.
Tyler nods as I end the call. “Good. Believable.”
“He’s got eyes everywhere, and if he’s been watching closely the last few days, he may already be onto me. If so, he may already be coming for me and for you.”
“He’s not,” Tyler says, sipping his water, “and if he does come, he won’t breach my building.”
“So arrogant”—my annoyance is evident in my tone—“are you forgetting—”
“LaCroix,” he states, and I snap my eyes to his. “That was your inside man. That’s how you got onto my floor and out of my building.”
“And?” I ask of his fate.
“He’s been dealt with,” Tyler informs with finality, and I know I won’t get more out of him on whether or not LaCroix survived such a betrayal.
“And if Ciro is watching my apartment?”
“You’re arriving at your apartment and sleeping there every night,” he informs me, “and on-screen, you just called him from that burner.”
“Wow.” I widen my eyes. “Impressive.”
“You’d be amazed at how far we’ve come with AI. A person—especially one operating alone—could exist for a month or more without a beating heart before any real suspicions were raised.”
I pause, his threat clear. Satisfaction flickers in his expression when he sees I’ve drawn the conclusion he wanted me to. His decision is made, and he has no intention of being partners.
“You’ve already decided you don’t need me,” I state.
“No, I don’t,” he delivers instantly and far too easily.
“Maybe you think you don’t need me, but you do.”
“You lied to me for the first time since last night.” He lifts his chin. “Why?”
Because I want to be valuable.
“You were supposed to be different,” I relay on exhale. I imagine I see something close to curiosity in his gaze before pushing away from the table.
“We’re not done, Larissa,” he barks, “sit down.”
“Yes, Tyler,” I say, stalking toward my cell while tossing my reply over my shoulder. “We fucking are.”
“The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him.”
—Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince