Page 41 of Ace of Hearts

Levi

June

Las Vegas, USA

Rose furrows her brow in confusion, her face bathed in tears. That doesn’t soften my resolve one bit. The anger is cold and hard in my heart. I stroke her cheeks tenderly, lovingly, wiping away the crocodile tears that die on her lips.

Those lips that have told so many horrible lies. Those lips that kissed me, just so she could more effectively betray me.

“What?” she stammers, and I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable.

I glide my fingers over her cheekbones and brush away a stray strand of hair from her mouth. My movements couldn’t be gentler, but the fire inside me is fierce and deadly.

“It was Tito’s men who did this.”

She turns a shade paler, looking for all the world as though she didn’t already know. What an actress! I analyze her every expression, admiring her mastery at lying. I watch her shake her head, only slightly at first, then more decisively.

“Impossible.”

“Oh really? Why?”

“He’d never do a thing like that,” she claims confidently. “He’s a bastard, but not a murderer.”

“You mean, not like me?”

She blinks, confused. I don’t know why I’m so very angry. I already knew what she was. I already knew she was taking me for a ride. But I never thought she’d go as far as to ... I was stupid enough to think that maybe, just maybe, she’d really fallen for me.

“How can you possibly know what he might or might not do? You don’t know him very well, after all,” I say, putting my head on one side.

She doesn’t have an answer to that. I tell her I recognized the make of car as belonging to one of the stooges who follows Tito everywhere. Not just the make, but the exact vehicle. At least all that time I’ve spent spying on Tito wasn’t completely wasted.

Rose pretends to be shocked. It makes me sick. Just this morning, I was persuading myself I could trust her. I was about to tell her I loved her, for fuck’s sake. She played me for a fool, and that’s something I can’t tolerate.

She toyed with my feelings for the sake of a goddamn poker game. Not just my feelings but my life, and my friends’ lives.

“Rose.”

She looks fixedly at me, her eyes shining, as I take her chin in my hand, my thumb on one side of her mouth, my fingers on the other. I pull her gently toward me and press a soft kiss onto her lips.

She closes her eyes and doesn’t resist, but I press harder, and she eventually moans in pain. I pull back without letting go of her, my eyes shooting daggers, and whisper, “I know everything, my love. Tito, your father, your false identity ... I’ve known it all right from the start.”

Rose stiffens under my touch. She does her best not to show it, but thanks to her lessons, I can read the signs of fear in her face.

“Was it fun?” I ask. I feel a false smile contort my face. “Is he paying you more than I am? I bet you’re rich now. That’s why you did it, isn’t it? Or was it to please Daddy? To make him love you?”

I can see in her eyes that these last questions have hit home, but her sadness quickly transforms into anger, and she smacks my hand to make me let go before she jumps to her feet. I sigh dramatically, still crouching on the ground, and take my time standing up.

“The truth hurts, does it?”

“It isn’t what you think.”

I almost laugh. Of all the stupid things she could have said, that’s the worst. When someone says that, you can be pretty sure they’re lying. And now that I know her talent at that, I can see it coming.

I dig my hands into my pockets, my defense systems activated.

Rose has known me for only a few weeks. She doesn’t really know who I am yet, or how I operate.

But the fact is, nobody cons me. She’s been the exception to the rule, until now.

But when I’m angry, I fight back. And I have no pity.

If you hurt me, I’ll use your worst insecurities to hurt you twice as badly.

Even if it means lying.

Even if it means making myself suffer.

“Oh, so you’re not Rose Alfieri, daughter of Tito Ferragni?”

She hesitates, her fists clenched at her sides. “Yes, I am,” she admits reluctantly.

I smile and turn away, then start to pace up and down the room.

“Let me guess. He asked you to spy on me? To find out what I was plotting? No, even better: to seduce me and then destroy me, without him having to even lift a finger. Was that it?”

Her silence speaks volumes. Ouch .

“He likes others to do his dirty work, it seems.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” she insists. “I fucked up; I know. I was about to tell you everything.”

“Of course you were. What convenient timing.”

Rose scowls at me but doesn’t speak. I know she’s dying to tell me to shut up, but she knows she’s in the wrong. I guess she’s still hoping to save her skin. Didn’t her father bring her up to speed?

“How long have you known?” She bats away her tears with an impatient gesture. Her expression is cold and closed. Her chin is high. The person I see is a million miles from the Rose who held me in her arms last night while I cried over my father’s death.

I’ve been so stupid. I’ve only got myself to blame. Thomas warned me.

I sit on the sofa, crossing my legs coolly. “Ever since you’ve known about my color blindness.”

Her mask drops for a second. She looks dumbfounded. “But ... that was ages ago.”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You’ve known all this time ...” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

I shrug nonchalantly. I want her to think I don’t care and that she hasn’t managed to wound me. It’s my only chance to save whatever shred of dignity I have left.

“I didn’t say anything simply because it was easier not to. You amused me. My father used to say, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ No doubt Tito taught you the same thing, or you wouldn’t have slept with me at the first opportunity.”

It’s as though I’ve shot her. I force myself to keep the vicious smile on my face. Can she see the suffering in my eyes? I hope not. Thanks to her, I’m an expert in hiding my emotions now. That’s one way she’s helped me, at least.

I get up and stand directly in front of her, holding her murderous gaze. I feel the urge to lay things on even thicker, wanting to see her suffer at least as much as I have. It’s not fair for her not to.

“It was funny ... seeing you acting your little heart out and knowing none of it was true. I used it all to beat you at your own game, of course. I was curious to see how far you’d go.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” I say mockingly. I lower my head toward hers, a nasty smile on my face. “Are you sure about that?”

Her eyes search mine, looking for the real me underneath my iron facade. I can see my words have hit their mark, but I can’t tell if she’s still acting or if her ego really has just shattered.

“So you told me all your secrets just for fun? You weren’t worried about where that might lead? I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“What if I went to the police and told them you killed your father?”

My whole body stiffens. I hide my anxiety and pretend to think about this, before replying offhandedly, “Who’d believe you?

There’s no proof, and my mother has already served her time.

Plus I already tried to confess when I was a kid.

There’s no way they’d bother digging up an old case from ten years ago.

But go ahead and tell them, by all means. Be my guest.”

“I never said I’d actually do it.” She sounds annoyed that I might think her capable of such a thing. “I know I lied. And I did accept your offer with the aim of helping my father. But ... things changed. I mean it, Levi. I switched sides a long time ago.”

A convenient excuse . She really must take me for a loser if she thinks I’ll fall for that again. Women like her are dangerous, especially ones who’ve been raised by Tito Ferragni.

“Really?” I ask.

She blinks, and nods hesitantly. I can’t stand seeing that damn ring on her finger, proof of my stupidity.

“Really.”

Silence. I nod once, then twice, and sigh. “I’m afraid I can’t say things changed for me, unfortunately.”

The lie is bitter on my tongue. It hurts me, but I go on, satisfied to see her expression grow increasingly miserable as I speak.

“It was all a game. The sex was good, I won’t deny that. Now that I think of it, you know what I find amusing?” I give a bark of laughter. “When I offered you this job, back in Macau, you told me you weren’t a prostitute. I guess that was a lie too.”

Rose slaps me hard in the face. I was expecting it, so I’m not completely caught off-balance. But the strength behind the blow does astonish me, and I welcome the burn of the mark she leaves on my cheek.

I look at her again, no longer smiling, and see she’s ready to explode.

“What?” I ask in a venomous whisper. “Isn’t that what your father does? You must mean a lot to him. After all, you’ve spent your whole life accepting whatever he dishes out, hoping that maybe one day he’ll love you ...”

“Shut up, Levi. I’m warning you.”

“You must think I’m pretty pathetic, with my dead father and my mother behind bars. But you know what? I pity you even more, Rose,” I murmur, right into her ear, like a lover. “Because unlike me ... you’ve got nobody else.”

I don’t have the chance to say more, because she shoves me away with all her strength, yelling wildly, “You piece of shit! I forbid you to pity me!”

At first, I think she’ll stop there, but she grabs my shirt and tries to hit me again. I take her by the wrists to stop her and push her backward, hard enough that her back hits the wall. The books on the shelf fall off with a crash.

Rose seizes one and hits me on the head with it.

I groan and stagger backward. I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m overtaken by a sense of terrible injustice.

I want her to suffer as much as I’m suffering.

I want to shake her and ask her why she did everything she did. Why she doesn’t feel the way I do.