Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
FINA
At exactly one o’clock the next afternoon, two men rush past my pool chair. Before I can react, they throw open the casita doors and vanish inside.
Minutes later, they return. One has a phone pressed to his ear.
Renzo left late last night, and all morning I’ve been feeding Sandro lies. That Renzo was sleeping in after a late night. That his twin abandoned me for the beach. That he was in the shower. Stalling, breathlessly anticipating the moment I’ll be caught.
The man himself appears at the kitchen door, strides across the pool deck without a word, and disappears into the casita.
Half-amused, half-terrified, I bite my lip, knowing I’m in deep shit.
“Where the fuck is he?” he roars, pure fury, as he charges toward me.
I swallow and shrug.
“You want to play games?” He jabs a button, shoves his phone at me. “Lie to him, then.”
My pulse spikes when Sebastiano Beneventi fills the screen. Even through the screen, he radiates a cold, deliberate danger that has me shrinking back. His voice is calm, almost soft, but every syllable drips with authority. “Renzo in Sicily?”
I feel like prey under a predator’s paw. It takes everything not to answer.
“Elia …”
“It’s Fina.”
His voice sharpens. “If you care about him, tell me his plans.”
“I don’t care about him.” It’s the biggest lie I’ve told today.
Sebastiano’s eyes narrow. I’ve no doubt, if he could, he’d reach through the screen and wrap his fingers around my throat.
“Stop protecting him,” Sandro snaps, then addresses his father. “I told him not to act alone, but he believes he can reason with Grassi.”
“There’s been a miscommunication,” I add, coming to Renzo’s defense.
“No shit,” Sandro growls.
“Call him,” Sebastiano orders, voice like iron.
I pass Sandro his phone, grab mine, and dial. The call goes straight to voicemail. “What do I say?”
“Don’t,” a woman’s voice cuts in.
Sebastiano’s head turns, his tone icy. “This is business.”
“He’s your son, Bastian.”
“Alessia,” he warns.
Unbelievable. The same Alessia who didn’t want Renzo at her wedding is now defending him.
I speak up before the moment shifts. “Give Renzo a chance to prove himself.”
The silence is suffocating.
Sandro studies me like I am Quasimodo’s love child.
“Handing out more advice?” Sebastiano finally asks.
“Not really … yes.”
There’s a long pause like Sebastiano’s considering my words.
“He’s a genius,” I reassure him. “Cunning and clever. Add a give-two-shits philosophy and brass balls, and Massimo doesn’t stand a chance.”
Neither did I.
“He’ll get himself killed,” Sandro protests.
“He has one day.”
Pride swells in my chest. I did it, I bought Renzo time.
“We still follow the plan, and our men will take position in case Grassi refuses the olive branch. If he listens, if Dante comes back unharmed, Grassi might live.”
Off-camera, Alessia says, “Thank you.”
Am I grateful? Yes. But the vengeful part of me holds a grudge on Renzo’s behalf for her not wanting him at the wedding.
I imagine adding her name to my list, then erase it. Pettiness I can tolerate. Emotional and bodily harm, however, I can’t.
Nor being victimized by men who view women as inferior and weak.
Only one name besides my father’s belongs on my list: Emo Accardo.
Riley’s an old soul in a young woman’s body, and her excitement for tomorrow’s fair somehow makes me care about dusty secondhand lamps.
With only a few guards around, we settle into the theater room, wine in hand, popcorn between us, scrolling through Netflix thrillers.
The danger Renzo and Sandro face is real.
I’ve been in this world long enough to know Massimo Grassi isn’t a man to take lightly.
Still, what I told Sebastiano Beneventi was true. I trust Renzo completely.
“How about this one?” I pause on a series about a kidnapped woman.
“Not interested.”
“Right. Because there’s a high probability she’ll just sit there waiting for a man to save her. Gag me.” I nearly did the same thing myself. Waited on someone else to save me. Then, saved myself.
Riley hesitates, popcorn pinched between her fingers. “He kidnapped me.”
I blink. “Wait—Sandro?”
She nods. “We were romantically involved. I was unaware my boss was involved in shady business with the New York casino Sandro oversaw. So, Sandro took me.”
“God, he’s a first-class asshole.”
“And no,” she continues, ignoring my comment, “I didn’t save myself. Renzo did. Well, tried to. Not from Sandro, but from this evil man who had it out for the Beneventi family.”
My heart swells with pride. “Renzo did?”
“Don’t you know he has a hero complex?” Riley chuckles. “He also tried to save Alessia from his father’s wrath.”
That name slams into me.
Riley smiles faintly. “He thought marrying her would protect her.”
“Marrying her?” The popcorn bowl digs into my palm. “Renzo was engaged to Alessia?”
“Not officially. But he went to his father, demanding they wed. Set off a whole domino effect, too. But that’s another story.”
My voice is barely a whisper. “When?”
Popcorn slips from her hand to her lap. “Alessia’s like a sister to them now. Don’t be jealous.”
I lean forward, my tone sharp. “When?”
“Almost two years ago. Sometime after their twenty-third birthday, I believe.” She studies my face. “Are you okay?”
“He asked Sebastiano Beneventi if he could marry her?”
“Yes.”
“He did that for Alessia?”
“Oh my God, Fina. What’s wrong? It all worked out.”
The world tilts. “No. No. No.”
I push to my feet, fury and disbelief burning hot. His voice echoes in my head, the soft promise and later the excuses.
“My father will never allow it.”
“I’m not the marrying type.”
“You’re the only woman I’d ever want to marry.”
But that’s not true. He was almost engaged to Alessia Beneventi, yet couldn’t make the same commitment to me.
My ribs are closing in, crushing my heart. I nearly drop the wineglass as the room blurs at the edges, colors bleeding to grey until there is only his face, his handsome, treacherous face. Feeding me excuses.
Feeding me lies, lies, lies.