Page 58 of Die for You

I cock the trigger on my gun. But Francesco doesn’t waver.

“I will tell Valentina the truth about who her mother and father really are.”

I lower my piece because Francesco is the missing piece I need.

I gave up after all these years because with the evidence gone and Sister Margarette’s mysterious death—which I know was Gianna’s doing—I couldn’t prove to Valentina who she really was.

But now, I can.

“How do you know about Valentina?” I doubt Gianna told him they had a daughter. If she did, then why does he want her to know the truth now?

“Rumors are circulating about Valentina. There is a mole among us who wants to harm Valentina. They know too much. It’s not Gianna, since that would make her vulnerable, and she doesn’t want anyone knowing about her secret weapon.

“One look at Valentina and I knew she was my daughter. She’s in danger, Lenny. We must protect her.”

Is that why Valentina is here?

Nothing makes any sense.

Putting my gun away, I open the freezer and retrieve the bottle of vodka. I pour two glasses and offer one to Francesco. We both take a much-needed drink.

Truth be told, I don’t trust Francesco. This entire ploy smells of Gianna.

But what if it’s legit?

I know what my answer is. Regardless of good sense, I know I will give Francesco what he wants because he’s the only one to give me what I truly want—and that is Valentina.

He places the crystal glass on the counter. “I’ll see myself out. Bria has my number. The ball is in your court.”

He leaves, and I take a moment to digest everything.

If Francesco is a mole, then I’m about to welcome the enemy into my domain. I’ll take my chances because if Valentina is in danger, then it’s only a matter of time before she is another fatality in a war we never wanted.

I walk up the staircase, and when I enter my bedroom, I duck to miss the flying bottle of wine that Bria’s aimed at my head.

It smashes against the wall, staining the paint red.

I close the door, sighing because I’m not in the mood for what’s about to transpire.

“Please explain to me what’s going on because, correct me if I’m mistaken, but we’re supposed to be partners in all things, are we not?”

“Stop with the sarcasm. It’s most unbecoming.”

“You know what’s unbecoming?” she screams. “You giving me bits and pieces of yourself. I don’t know what more I can do.”

“Stopping screaming would be a good start.” I kick off my boots.

Bria doesn’t appreciate my suggestion and storms over, attempting to slap me.

I grip her wrist and arch a brow. “Careful.”

“Or what?” she challenges, her chest heaving in anger.

I don’t reply.

“This has to do with thatcagna, doesn’t it?”

I clench my jaw.