Chapter 27
Tiziano Ferrucci
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Bianca move around the room. Her light dress and loose hair fell over her shoulders. She held my tie in her hands and, with a sigh, walked toward me.
“Stay still,” she said softly, almost like an order, and I let her place the tie around my neck.
As she adjusted the knot, my gaze remained fixed on her concentrated expression.
“Are you really bringing Rosa here?” she asked without looking at me.
“Yes,” I replied, watching her reactions as though she were a puzzle I needed to solve. “Your parents invited us to dinner.”
“Dinner?” Bianca repeated, pausing for a moment before continuing to adjust my tie.
“Yes.” I tilted my head, studying her. “Don’t you miss your parents?”
She quickly turned her back, perhaps to hide the expression that crossed her face, but soon turned around again, forcing a smile.
“Of course I miss them.”
I forced a fake smile, making it clear just how much I knew she was lying.
“Perfect, then. It’ll be a great opportunity to catch up with them.”
“Yes, it’ll be perfect,” she agreed.
I continued watching as she finished the knot, then stepped away with a small movement.
She was a terrible liar, so terrible it sounded like a cry for help.
The more I observed her, the clearer it became that something was being hidden, something I still didn’t know but would make damn sure I discovered.
“Be ready by six,” I ordered, standing.
“Yes, I’ll be ready.”
I hurried downstairs, and when I reached the living room, I found Carlo lounging on the couch, a glass of wine in his hand, as though he were waiting for something.
“Do we have wounded men in the house?” I asked sarcastically.
Carlo raised an eyebrow, laughing softly.
“Do I need a reason to visit a friend?”
“You don’t,” I replied, adjusting the watch on my wrist. “What are you doing now?”
“No plans today.”
“Then come with me.”
He stood, following me to the car already waiting for us outside.
“How’s married life?” Carlo asked once we were inside the car.
“Bianca is still young. She has a lot to learn.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Neither. We’re getting along well. Even though I have to teach her everything, it’s good, exciting. I’ve been enjoying it.”
Carlo laughed, shaking his head.
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“When can I do a test to find out if she’s pregnant?”
He laughed again, and my gaze hardened.
“Easy, my friend. Wait a few weeks.”
“I hope it’s a boy. That’ll give me some peace. After that, we’ll have girls. I like the idea of having daughters.”
“You have a talent for making long-term plans for everything, even children who don’t exist yet.”
Before I could answer, the car stopped in front of the Venus Nightclub.
“What are we doing here?” Carlo asked, frowning.
“I need to check a few things.”
“Problems?”
“Bellini’s son. There was an attack on the club. I’m going to verify some information.”
We entered the place, the air thick with the smell of cheap perfume mixed with alcohol.
Half-naked women moved from one side to the other, some giving us inviting looks and smiles.
One of them, a blonde wearing a dress that was far too tight, approached with familiarity, and she was exactly the woman I was looking for.
“Don Tiziano,” she practically purred, placing a hand on my arm.
“Stop touching me. I want to ask you some questions.”
She took a step back.
“What did the man you believe started everything look like?” I asked bluntly.
“You came here personally to ask about that? The soldiers have already been here.”
“And does that stop you from answering me?” I shot back.
“He was young, twenty-eight at most,” she replied, still speaking softly, trying to hold my attention.
“And what did he want? Did he ask questions?” I continued.
“He asked if the Don came here often, if you were in the city…” She hesitated, as though there were something she didn’t want to say.
“And…?”
“He asked about your wife.”
My expression hardened instantly.
“My wife?”
“Yes. He seemed curious about her.”
My jaw clenched. Curiosity about Bianca was dangerous territory. Whoever this man was, he was crossing a line he had no business crossing.
“What else did he say?” I asked, my tone so cold that she swallowed hard.
“He just asked a few questions. He seemed to be probing, but he was polite. He wanted to know if she was…” She hesitated, her eyes shifting away from mine.
“Say it.” My voice was an order, hard and relentless.
“If she was happy with you,” she finally blurted out.
A dry laugh escaped my lips, but there was nothing amused about it. Happy? It was no one’s business, least of all a stranger’s, to speculate about what happened between Bianca and me.
Carlo, standing beside me, raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for my reaction.
“What made him think you would know?” I asked, studying every expression on her face.
“I don’t know…” She hesitated, nervously fidgeting with her hands. “There are always comments, Don Tiziano. People talk about others, about how their relationships are going.”
I arched an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly.
“And do you take part in those conversations?”
“Never!” she answered quickly. “I only listen, but I never get involved, especially when it concerns you.”
“Make sure it stays that way,” I replied coldly. “And if anything else reaches your ears, I want to know.”
“Yes, Don Tiziano.” She dipped her head in agreement, relieved when my attention shifted to Carlo, who waited patiently beside me.
Without another word, I turned and walked toward the exit. Carlo followed, curiosity written across his face.
“Someone interested in Bianca?” he finally asked. “Do you really think it’s Bellini?”
“It isn’t interest. It’s provocation,” I shot back, already planning the measures I would take to discover who the bastard was.
“I don’t know if it’s Bellini. That’s what everyone thinks.
It doesn’t matter who he is. I’m going to rip out his tongue so that even in hell, he won’t ask questions that are none of his fucking business. ”