Chapter 19
19
D ante
The color drains from Gia's face.
I withdraw and slide back on the bed, facing her. Anger surges into my blood.
Does she know? Does she know this isn't going to end well for her? She must.
A small bob makes its way down her throat. She's a vision. Disheveled hair and a sheen of sweat on her face and neck. She's naked, still bound. She brings her legs together, a silent sign of self-preservation.
"What did you say?"
I shake my head. Does she want to make sure she heard me correctly? "Gia Santini. You," I spit out, curling my fingers into a ball.
She yanks her wrists, rattling the handcuffs, and her lovely tits shake. "Uncuff me."
"That's not an option." I put security in front of the basement door and the backyard, facing her windows. Truth is, there's not much she can do here—most objects have been carefully removed. But I want her to feel cornered. To experience the same despair zipping through my veins.
She lied to me. Betrayed me. Deceived me and my family and took me for a fool.
She deserves to die—but what she deserves and what I'm willing to do right now are two different things. I can't kill her yet—and that weakness brings a wave of shame upon me. Keeping her alive is a living, breathing sign of my lack of strength. I've been weak and stupid and didn't use my better judgment. Hell, I agreed to "not worry." I'm sure she had a good laugh behind my back.
Gia—a part of me wants to call her Lucia, but I need to stay strong—screams, then moves her arms, rattling the handcuffs but not conquering them. There's no way out for her.
"I'd save my energy if I were you," I say cooly.
She groans. "Listen… I'm sorry. I can tell you anything you need to know."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. I heard Ciro was looking for me from a former coworker. I don't know where he is now."
A twinge of jealousy squeezes my chest. Tucked under the ranging betrayal is the fact she's married. She's someone's wife. I could kill him—and I will. But first things first.
"Do you think I care about your loser husband? Give me Ross Santini's location," I demand, bringing my head to the game. There's a chance she might know where Santini is, or maybe her husband does. Either way, I need to act.
She tilts her head to the side like I'm speaking a foreign language. "I never met him. I don't know where he is."
I shake my head. "Enough lying."
"It's true. Listen. My mom married Ciro's dad, who's Ross's cousin. Aroldo did work for him on and off. Ciro did, too—they weren't up the ranks, so they flew under the radar. Those two weren't even good at being low-rate thugs."
"You expect me to believe you?" What are the chances of her never having met Santini? She must think I'm an absolute idiot. "Why did you want to work for me?"
"Because when I heard that I'd be locked away in a modern-day fortress of a mansion, working for you sounded like heaven. I left my husband two months ago and wanted to keep moving east. But I ran out of money and needed work."
"How convenient."
"It was. I was tired of getting beaten by Ciro. I would’ve worked for the devil if it meant I'd be safe until I saved enough money."
Until she saved up enough money to keep moving. Even if I believed her story, she's still a traitor. She came to my home, got involved with my daughter, and was going to leave us at the first opportunity. Why does this matter? As someone in my world, if I'm thinking with a clear head, I should appreciate her scrappiness. But I can't have a clear head where she's concerned.
"So you'd leave us," I say, a dark emotion enunciated in every word.
She looks at me square in the eye. "Yes."
"Gia." Saying her name still feels odd. She's been Lucia all these weeks, but Gia is a new woman. Lucia never existed—and if Lucia never existed, does that negate what happened between us? Was it all a lie? And am I being na?ve to even question it? Of course, it was a lie. The worst truth is the one I don't want to accept. "What were you hoping to extract from me?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've worked in this house for weeks. Why didn't you sell a secret or anything about our logistics that could be used by the Santinis yet?" She may have another endgame I'm discounting. What could it be?
"Because that wasn't my goal," she says, shaking her wrists again and rattling the handcuffs.
"Or you haven't found something worth sharing yet." My team found a burner phone in her room but no laptop or other recording device. She was either too careful with placing them or waiting for more substantial information to share or sell.
She draws her eyebrows together, her big brown eyes fixed on mine. Pleading. "Dante... I can't say I didn't lie to you. But I'd never put you or AJ at risk."
"Where's Ross Santini?" I insist, ignoring her last comment. Damn it. This would have been much easier if she were a man—easier torturing techniques. But sadly, she's all woman, I remember as my gaze lowers from her eyes to her mouth, then descend to enjoy seeing her perky tits one last time.
"I can't tell you because I have no idea. Listen, I was running from my ex. If you poke around, you'll find out I'm telling the truth. My marriage was a hot mess. Why would I help him or his family?"
"Maybe you have an agreement with Santini. That's how you get freedom from your ex, by bringing him something big. If his cousin is expendable, he won't care." Deals like that are common in my world. Everyone needs to pay up, and she's no different.
I watch her, expecting her mask to slip, for her facial expression to show me something other than astonishment.
"Can you hear yourself? You think I have a deal with a mafia boss for my freedom?"
"Yes. That's how things work in this world, Gia."
She shakes her head. "Bring me one of those polygraph devices. You'll know I'm telling the truth."
I scowl at her. "You have a lot of demands for someone in your position. Your husband was out looking for you. In the club."
An expression of fear crosses her face. "Don't send me back to him. I'd rather die. Please."
My heartbeat floats up my throat, twisting into a throbbing knot. I can't wait to put my hands on her ex—almost more than Santini. "That'll happen, regardless."
"What?"
"You betrayed our family. My brothers, everyone knows."
She widens her eyes. "Dante, I'm on your side. I hate the Santinis. Please don't kill me."
I get up and look at her. My cock twitches. It shouldn't. But it never listened to me, so why would it start now? I turn around, willing myself to think. I can't kill her yet.A part of me doesn't want to do it at all, but I know I need to regroup.
She screams my name as I walk away and leave her, locking the door behind me.
"Did you handle it?" Rocco asks me on the other end of the line.
I know what he refers to, but I clutch the phone. "I talked to her," I say, ignoring any other implications. "Whether or not she's lying is a different story, but I needed to talk to her to see if we can extract anything we can use."
"I can talk to her if you want. A third party."
I growl. If he comes within feet of her, I'll murder him. "No. It's my problem, and I'll take care of it."
"Well? What did she say?" he asks, a trace of impatience in his voice.
"She was running from her abusive husband. She doesn't know where Santini is."
Maybe she's telling me the truth. When we first had sex, she wasn’t faking it. That much I know—a part of her was still scared until she relaxed.
But sometimes the truth is not enough.
He whistles. "I didn't expect her to say anything different. Again, I can talk to her."
God, Rocco is so fucking annoying. Constantly wanting to put his nose where it doesn't belong. "You fucking stay out of it."
I hear his breath of annoyance on the other end of the line. "Okay, fine. I'll give you a couple more days, but if you don't get anything from her, I'll have to let Massimo know."
"Massimo isn't my father, and I'm not eight."
"No, but he'll burn it down when he finds out that a woman bearing the same last name as the family who wanted to kill his wife is under your protection."
I know the asshole is right. Massimo is obsessed with his wife and would never let anything happen to Amara—the idea that the family who tried to hurt her is still around doesn't sit well with him. Besides, I don't want Massimo or our father, who has been away from family business in practice but not in theory, to find out about this until I can fix the situation.
"I'll figure it out," I say before I end the call. And hope I’m fucking right.