Page 45

We break out into the open air, my second still at my side and my wife now silently trailing next to me. We come to a grinding halt, waiting for the valet to bring my car around.

“I will, boss. But before you go…” He steps around me to stand in front of my wife. “I wish we had met under more pleasant circumstances, but I’m Valerio—the man tasked with keeping your husband’s head out of his ass.”

I shoot him a glare, but Maria manages a small smile, quelling some of the tension coursing through my body.

Maria takes his hand in hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Valerio. Hopefully we can sit down and have a nice chat some time?”

The little shit goes the extra mile and takes the back of her hand and kisses it. I clear my throat, uncomfortable with this little exchange. But from the smile on Valerio’s face, I know he is only doing it to get under my skin.

“It would be my pleasure. Maybe we can exchange numbers and?—”

“Oh, would you look at that? The car’s here.” Right on cue, it pulls up, and I nudge Maria forward. “You want her number? Sure. I’ll give it to you… never.”

My second lets out a low chuckle after succeeding at getting under my skin. He rolls his eyes and heads back inside.

The valet opens Maria’s door, and I help her inside. The smile has dropped from her lips and she looks pensive. Her eyes move over my face for a few seconds before she opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“Whatever you have to say, can you save it? I need to put as much space between me and this place as possible.” I manage the words, but thinking of what just happened makes my blood sizzle a little.

“Okay.”

I shut the door and round the car so I can take us home. Giacomo is like a rat; he only lives in the shadows and in the deep underground sewer. If he has resurfaced, it means he is up to something, and I need to find out what it is.

The drive back to the penthouse is silent. We ascend the elevator, not a single word uttered between the two of us. I am still fighting off the last shrivels of anger still lingering in my system.

I am holding it in for her, but had I been on my own, I would have made my way to my range and blown off some steam.

We walk through the door, and I loosen my bow tie and breathe a sigh of relief. Today has been nothing short of a clusterfuck of events.

The heels of our shoes hit against the marble floors, sending the sound to the walls and then back again.

“Who was that man?” She finally fills the silence of the house. “Why does he seem to hate you?”

I ignore her and walk over to the bar, where I find my favorite bottle of whiskey. I pour myself a glass and throw the harsh liquor back. I wince but I appreciate the burn as it sears my throat.

“I have many people who hate me, Maria. That is the name of the game.” I watch her, standing in the middle of the open area looking like a vision in white. So pure. So innocent. “Are you okay? After everything that happened tonight.”

She looks at me with furrowed brows.

“Daniele?” I prompt.

She sighs heavily. “Truthfully?”

“Yes, always.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Only two months ago, I was thinking about where I wanted to exhibit my next pieces, and now… well, now I am the wife to one of the most dangerous menon the east coast, and the only person I could call friend hates me for some unknown reason.”

He doesn’t hate her. He hates me and for good reason, but I can’t tell her. This is a secret I have carried since the day he was born and one I do not intend to divulge.

The pain in her voice stirs something in me. I push the unknown feeling down, not ready to address such things.

“In the span of a month, I lost my twin brother and married a man who seems all but soulless toward me. Do you know that you haven’t even asked how I am doing through all of this? I had to let go of the only life I knew and could find comfort in. I’m in a strange new world and I… I’m barely treading water. I feel like I’m either seconds away from crying and melting down or breaking something. There is no in-between, and it’s driving me to insanity.”

Her words hang in the air. The weight of them press down onto my chest.

Antonio Faravelli.

There has been blood on my hands for decades, but his blood mars my hands, and I don’t think I will ever be able to come to terms with what happened. This is why she should have married Daniele. My debt would be paid and I wouldn’t have to see her every day in my home.