Page 141 of Dirty Mafia Torment

“Right. Because there’s a high probability she’ll just sit therewaiting for a man to save her. Gag me.” I nearly did the same thing myself. Waited on someone else to save me. Then, saved myself.

Riley hesitates, popcorn pinched between her fingers. “He kidnapped me.”

I blink. “Wait—Sandro?”

She nods. “We were romanticallyinvolved. I was unaware my boss was involved in shady business with the New York casino Sandro oversaw. So, Sandro took me.”

“God, he’s a first-class asshole.”

“And no,” she continues, ignoring my comment, “I didn’t save myself. Renzo did. Well, tried to. Not from Sandro, but from this evil man who had it out for the Beneventi family.”

My heart swells with pride. “Renzo did?”

“Don’t you know he has a hero complex?” Riley chuckles. “He also tried to save Alessia from his father’s wrath.”

That name slams into me.

Riley smiles faintly. “He thought marrying her would protect her.”

“Marrying her?” The popcorn bowl digs into my palm. “Renzo was engaged to Alessia?”

“Not officially. But he went to his father, demanding they wed. Set off a whole domino effect, too. But that’s another story.”

My voice is barely a whisper. “When?”

Popcorn slips from her hand to her lap. “Alessia’s like a sister to them now. Don’t be jealous.”

I lean forward, my tone sharp. “When?”

“Almost two years ago. Sometime after their twenty-third birthday, I believe.” She studies my face. “Are you okay?”

“He asked Sebastiano Beneventi if he could marry her?”

“Yes.”

“He did that for Alessia?”

“Oh my God, Fina. What’s wrong? It all worked out.”

The world tilts. “No. No. No.”

I push to my feet, fury and disbelief burning hot. His voice echoes in my head, the soft promise and later the excuses.

“My father will never allow it.”

“I’m not the marrying type.”

“You’re the only woman I’d ever want to marry.”

But that’s not true. He was almost engaged to Alessia Beneventi, yet couldn’t make the same commitment to me.

My ribs are closing in, crushing my heart. I nearly drop the wineglass as the room blurs at the edges, colors bleeding to grey until there is only his face, his handsome, treacherous face. Feeding me excuses.

Feeding me lies, lies, lies.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

RENZO