Chapter 3 #2
“You’re obviously still in shock,” he said, reaching out to gently squeeze my shoulder.
I didn’t like the way my heart clenched when he touched me. Didn’t like that the gesture was making me feel safe despite everything. “Don’t patronize me,” I said harshly.
Enzo snatched his hand back immediately. “Won’t happen again.”
As he turned away from me to lock the safe, I felt bad about snapping at him, so I put my dad’s phone in my jacket pocket while I asked, “Why did my father come here last night?”
“He wanted to talk about you," Enzo replied.
“I guess that’s the only topic you two would have to talk about,” I murmured. “What did he say?”
Enzo winced suddenly as he turned to face me again. “I’ve got a wicked hangover. Terrible fucking headache, too.”
For some reason, that filled me with concern for him. Maybe I didn’t want anyone else to end up suffering right now. Not even Enzo. “You need to clear your head.”
“Seltzer it is.” He gestured at me to follow him out of the living room and into the adjoining open concept kitchen.
I leaned against the island, watching him produce two glasses. One he filled with water before dunking a tablet into the glass to dissolve. “What can I get you?”
“You drink and I’ll go search through your fridge.” I paused to hike up my dress and shove the pistol into my thigh holster. When I glanced up again, I caught Enzo’s eyes practically bugging out of his head.
“Holy shit.” He grabbed the glass of fizzing water and drank it in one gulp.
I almost laughed. Guessed a glimpse of my thigh had helped him clear his head.
With my gun put away, I walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and quickly found a bottle of apple juice. Definitely a smarter choice than anything with alcohol or caffeine in it. After last night’s multiple sangrias, I too wanted a clear head this morning.
“You’re full of surprises Valentina,” my fiancé said as I poured the apple juice.
“Flirting with me again?”
“Can’t blame a man for that.” Enzo chuckled and took a seat at the island. “Where was I? Right. Your dad called saying that he wanted to talk.”
“Did he sound agitated?” I asked.
“You mean did he sound like he knew there was a hitman after him?” Enzo shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“Meaning?”
“He wanted to talk in person, not over the phone,” he said. “He insisted that we talk right away instead of later this week. He was adamant about that.”
I nodded, taking in the information. “So, he drove over. I saw his car is still parked outside.”
“Yeah, but here’s the thing. When he called requesting that we talk in person, he was already here at the apartment building. Probably downstairs,” Enzo said. “At the time I thought he was just trying to throw his weight around but now—”
“Now it sounds like it could have been more than that,” I said, interrupting.
There were good odds that my father had arrived uninvited to show the De Lucas that he was still very much in control.
But what if something had pushed him to act out of character?
Instead of my father trying to signal that he was in control, he might have actually been desperate to talk to Enzo. For a reason I simply could not fathom.
“Yeah, could have been.” Enzo nodded, then continued to walk me through the previous night’s conversation with my father.
When he was finished, my eyebrows raised at his final revelation. “Wait, Papa told you that? About the mole?”
My father had sworn me to secrecy. Not that I would have spoken of it anyway.
Still, he had specifically forbade me from telling the De Lucas that there was an informant who had probably ratted us out to the IRS.
The only people who had known were Papa, me, and my cousin Frankie.
Now, it seemed that Enzo knew as well. But what on earth would have gotten my father to reveal something like that?
Papa hated the De Lucas even more than I did.
He had zero trust for them. Even with the marriage alliance between our families, there was no way he would tell one of them about our greatest weakness, and yet, last night, he had.
“Yes, he told me,” Enzo said. “Didn’t give many details though.”
“Probably for the best,” I said softly.
“You still don’t trust me.” The way he said it was more of an observation than a question. “You obviously knew about this informant.”
I gave a single nod. “Papa swore me to secrecy. Talking about it doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s too bad,” he said, looking up at me.
There was no anger in his eyes this time.
His expression was one of disappointed acceptance.
Rare for him to look like at me with anything other than lust or hatred.
It was enough to almost make me think he cared.
Almost. “I might have been able to help.”
Distrust reared its ugly head again. “Why would you want to help me?” I demanded.
“You’re my future wife,” he said.
Hearing him talk about our upcoming wedding made me realize just how much circumstances had changed.
Would either of us want to forge ahead with his marriage if my father didn’t recover?
The truth was, I hadn’t read enough of the fine print to know if there were contingency plans about my father’s life or health.
While Papa wasn’t the one getting married, he was part of the reason why this wedding was happening.
Not only had he negotiated the deal, my father’s empire was going to end up consolidating with the De Lucas’.
Papa hadn’t just bargained me away, he’d also put his business on the line for this.
“If you’re going to help me, you should forget about the mole and help me track this hitman instead...” My voice trailed off then. A thought occurred to me. I felt like a fool for not seeing it earlier. “What if the mole and the hitman are working together? Or—what if they’re the same person?”
“Your think the informant case and the attempted assassination are connected.” Enzo gave an approving smile. “So do I.”
“You think they’re the same person?”
“Hard to say for sure.” His expression turned thoughtful and he rubbed his temple. “But it’s one hell of a coincidence for an informant and a hitman to appear at the same time.”
“An informant and a hitman have different methods, so it could be two different people. But someone is definitely trying to take down my father. Either by having the government come down on him, or by taking him out entirely.” I looked at Enzo then.
Really looked at him. He was as bloodied and battered as I was.
Exhausted as I was too from the bleary glaze in his eyes.
And yet, here he was, trying to help me.
Not out of altruistic reasons of course.
This was pure business. He’d said it himself; I was his fiancée and therefore, he was obligated.
But there were a lot of people who wouldn’t have enough honor to follow through on their obligations.
He’d at least earned that much credit. “I don’t think you had anything to do with my father’s shooting. I believe you.”
Another smile, this time the arrogant, self-satisfied sort I’d learned to expect from him. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
“I’m not finished,” I said sharply. “Yes, I believe you. But your family has the most to gain from my father’s death.”
“What the hell? Why? What would my family gain from arranging a marriage to then dispose of the bride’s father?”
“Papa came here to see if you’d protect me.
To see if you’d come through for me if something were to happen to him...
” I said. “I’m not asking for your protection.
I can take care of myself, despite what my father thinks.
But right now, you’re the only person who can tell me about this hitman.
So, if your family sent him to kill my father—”
“They didn’t,” he snarled, roughly cutting me off with a scowl that could freeze blood.
“If your family sent this hitman, you’re going to have to choose,” I told him.
Despite my willingness to believe that he had nothing to do with the attempted murder, I couldn’t write off the rest of his family as easily.
And that threatened to derail everything that both of our fathers had worked to build.
Marriages and engagements broke down for much less.
“One day you’ll be tested, Enzo. And on that day, you’ll have to choose either me, or them. ”