33. Margot
Chapter 33
Margot
T he weather is gloomy and it’s been raining since I woke up this morning, so I’ve been exploring the house for the last couple of hours, but I’m bored. After all, there are only so many rooms that I can go into.
Maybe I can bug Alma into teaching me how to make her homemade cookies. I’ve been inhaling them like air, eating my anxiety over still not telling Massimo what I know. I know that I need to, but I just can’t find the right time. With my mind made up, I head in the direction of the main staircase.
A hushed, urgent voice echoes through the space as I near the corner that leads to the main corridor. Pressing my back to the wall, I listen intently. In the reflection of a picture hanging on the wall across from me, I can see a man, half-hidden in an alcove. He must not realize that the acoustics carry .
“I’m certain they don’t know, Elio.” There’s a pause as I assume Elio speaks. “No, his wife will not be an issue. I’m taking the necessary steps to keep her out of my way. Trust me, I have everything in hand. I’ve been assigned the investigation now and it’ll be simple enough to put all of this on Mattia, so we can move forward with our plan.” He pauses again. “I’ll tell him that it must have been left by one of the men who died during the attack on your property.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s talking about the envelope I found. The puzzle pieces fit, though I still feel like I’m missing a key piece. There is no doubt that whoever this is, is the rat that Massimo told me about.
The fact that he’s leading the investigation means that it can only be one of two men—Daniele or Aldo. Those are the only two people in this house that have knowledge of the investigation, although I know which one I’d put my money on it being. But, the truth is, I can’t be certain.
God, I wish I’d had more interactions with both of them .
I wish I could say that I recognize the voice alone. But I need to see his face with my own eyes. I have to confirm that it is definitely him before I accuse one of Massimo’s closest confidants of plotting to take him down.
What I don’t understand is why? Why plot to kill a man that you have worked with for however long, just so you can fall into line with another? It doesn’t make sense.
Shaking my head, I focus back on the low-toned conversation, my eyes fixed on the reflection. Come on, show me your face . He shuffles slightly, and every inch of my body goes on high alert. I hold my breath, worried I’ll give myself away, and slide down the wall a little more.
“No, nobody will know. If they do, you know that I will take care of them, just like I did Francesco. You have my word and my loyalty. Fedeltà Eterna .”
I make a mental note of the names—Elio, Mattia, and Francesco. Did whoever is behind this kill the guy called Francesco? Am I going to be next if they see me? I swallow down the bile and fear that rises in my throat.
The question is, what do I do with this information? I know that what I’m hearing is vital in unmasking the rat, but how does it fit into the bigger picture?
At the start of our marriage, I might have leveraged this information for my freedom, but now? I think of Massimo’s hand on my throat, not as a threat, but as a vow. I think of the way he kissed me in the woods, the way he touches me like he owns me. And I think maybe… he does, and not just in the physical sense.
He has my heart.
The realization fills me with a cocktail of elation and melancholy.
Biting my lower lip, I force myself to focus on the conversation taking place a few feet from me and what I’m going to do about it. How do I tell Massimo that someone close to him is trying to cover up their obvious involvement in a plot to tear him down? I’ve had days to figure out the answer, but I’m still no closer.
“Elio, calm down. Rome wasn’t built in a day and you can’t expect to take down a man as connected as Massimo in one, either,” he reassures, a confidence in his duplicity. “I have to go. Just trust that I have the situation in hand.”
I keep my gaze locked on his reflection when his arm drops to his side. He steps from the alcove, glancing up and down the corridor. My eyes widen as he strides away with the confidence of man in his position. I knew it was him, but seeing it firsthand is almost paralyzing.
Nausea churns in my gut, my vision tunneling as the full weight of the truth crushes me. This is Massimo’s right hand man. The person he trusts the most.
Aldo .
It’s only when I can no longer hear his footsteps or see his retreating back in the glass that I suck in a breath, bending at the waist as panic washes over me like a rising tide.
Holy shit .
My body wants to run and scream but I can’t move. Instead, I’m rooted to the spot, the responsibility of my discovery hanging over me like a black cloud.