Page 7

The next morning, I knocked lightly on Larissa’s door, balancing the tray of breakfast in my other hand. By no means had I forgiven her for her inquisition into my family last night, but rather, this was my way of wearing her down. I’d asked the maid to let me bring her breakfast since I wanted any opportunity I could have to question her.

“Come in!” I heard her say, and when I entered, I paused. She had her back to me as she dried her hair over the bureau. I felt rooted to the ground as my eyes lingered over her—she was in nothing but a towel, the planes of her shoulders and curves of her legs branching out like a sculpture.

I felt my breath hitch. God. She was beautiful.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence and averted my gaze. She turned, gasping. “Oh my god,” I heard her muffled voice over the sound of the hairdryer before she unplugged it. “I thought you were the maid!”

“Surprise,” I said, meeting her eyes and giving her a little shrug.

She looked mortified, her embarrassment coloring a pretty pink across her cheeks.

“Excuse me,” she said hoarsely, as she ran into the bathroom.

When she emerged fully dressed, I saw the look of disappointment on her face. “You’re still here?” she questioned accusatorially and crossed her arms in front of her chest, giving me a glare that could melt a man on the spot.

I leaned back against the wall, my hands in my pocket. “A thank you for bringing breakfast would suffice.”

“The maids finally quit, huh? Realized how crazy you were as a boss?”

Oh, she was sassy, all right. That mouth of hers could fire off insults, and I was all for it.

“Rather, they didn’t wish to serve a spy,” I said right back.

Her eyes narrowed as she eyed the food on the bed, then reached for mine. Of course, she didn’t reach for the food. Probably thought I’d poisoned it or something.

She then turned to me, “I told you I’m not a spy.”

“Oh, we’re taking that route again, Larissa?” I asked, anger rising in my chest. What was I doing? Admiring her beauty, her sass, her wit, when she was my enemy. God forbid that instead of tearing her down, I ended up shattered. I had to be more careful around her tricks.

“And what route is that, Gio?” Her voice rose an octave.

“The lying. If you weren’t a spy, then why the hell did you ask all those questions last night? About my family, our home, our business, and security measures?”

“Fine. You want to know the truth?” she declared, raising her hands in the air in frustration. “I wanted to gather all the information I could. I wanted to use anything I could to get out of here. You have no reason to keep me here!”

“I have every reason!” I clenched my fist and punched the air in frustration.

Larissa flinched, backing into the corner of the room, her eyes never leaving my face. For a brief moment, I felt bad for my display of rage, for scaring her, but then I remembered what her brothers did.

“Stop playing the innocent Mafia princess. I’ve had it with you. It’s bad enough your brothers bombed my operation just two weeks ago. You realize that they could have killed my men? My brothers? Me?”

Her mouth hung half-open and she shook her head in denial, her face going pale as she extended her hands toward me in shocked appeasement and disbelief.

“What? What are you saying? My brothers are in the Mafia, yes,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “but they are not cruel. They would never hurt people, let alone kill anyone. They… they couldn’t have bombed your place. They…couldn’t.”

“Stop it,” I growled, my voice low. “Just stop with the act. My men were innocent. We were innocent. We never deserved their wrath.”

“They didn’t do it,” she insisted in a quiet whisper, more to herself than to me, and as I watched, tears welled in her eyes. “They would never bomb innocent people. They wouldn’t.”

“You’re protecting them!” I roared, and she flinched once more. Her eyes returned to the moment as if she had been lost in thought.

“I’m not!” Larissa's voice trembled, but there was steel beneath it as she raised her chin at me defiantly, looking like a true queen. Even dressed in those jeans and a plain black sweater, she somehow maintained an aristocratic bearing, as if captivity was beneath her dignity. “I've told you a hundred times, I don't know why you're keeping me here! You’ve got it all wrong.”

The anger was now rising to an eruption. I had been there that wretched day, and to hear its existence being denied burned within me. Memories of the blast resurfaced: the screams, the shattered glass, the blood, and the cries.

“Your brothers,” I bellowed, “bombed my warehouse on the east side. Two weeks ago. Nearly killed fifteen of my men.”

“I don't...” she started.

“Don't give me that bullshit!” My voice rose, and I saw her shoulders tense. “Your family has been eyeing our family’s position since you were born. Your brothers have always been jealous.”

Her chin lifted. “My brothers don't hurt people.”

A laugh tore from my throat, bitter and sharp. “There’s three ways I see this, Larissa. Either you’re lying to yourself, you’re lying to me, or it’s a truth you know and don’t want to face. There’s only one way I see now to make you acknowledge the truth to me. It’s to show you who your brothers truly are.”

Something flickered across her face—doubt, maybe—but she shook her head. “Whatever do you mean? It’s none of those things. I told you, they wouldn’t—“

“They wouldn't what? Kill? Torture? Traffic?” She shook her head as I continued to speak. “What fantasy world do you live in, Larissa? Do you think the Italian Mafia made their fortune selling pasta and good wine?”

“They're not like that,” she insisted, but her voice had lost some of its conviction. “They protect our community. They help people who need it.”

I studied her face, searching for the tell—the micro expression that would give away her act. But all I saw was genuine belief. Either she was the best actress I'd ever encountered, or...

No. It wasn't possible. No one in our world stayed innocent past childhood.

“You know what?” I said, a plan already formed as my temper cooled. “I'm done arguing. You want to believe your brothers are saints? Fine. I'll show you exactly what kind of men they are.”

Fear sharpened her features. “What does that mean?”

I didn't answer, just pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. “Dmitri. Bring the car around.”

“What are you doing?” Larissa's voice had risen, panic edging into it.

I tucked the phone away and moved to the closet, pulling out a dark jacket. “We're going for a drive.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.” She planted her feet, arms crossed.

Her defiance that I so admired now grated at my nerves. “You don't have a choice. But if it makes you feel better, I'm not taking you to hurt you. I'm taking you to see the truth about your precious brothers, about you, or perhaps my delusions as you call it.” I tossed her the jacket. “Put this on. After this, one of us is going to be proven wrong.”

She caught it reflexively but didn't move to put it on.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I’ll drag you from here if I have to.”

Something in my tone must have convinced her I meant it. With trembling fingers, she pulled on the jacket. It swallowed her frame, making her look even smaller, more vulnerable.

The thought sent an unwelcome pang through my chest. I pushed it aside.

“When we go out there, for God's sake, don't try to run.” I motioned for her to walk through the door. “My men will be everywhere, and they won't be as gentle as I am if they have to chase you down.”

Her eyes flashed with indignation. “Gentle? You kidnapped me!”

“And you're still breathing, walking, and unharmed. In my world, that counts as gentle.” I steered her toward the door. “Now move.”

***

I ushered Larissa into the backseat of the car and slid in beside her.

“The pier,” I told the driver. “Find us a vantage point with cover. I want to see the Ajello loading dock without being seen.”

The driver nodded and took off. Our security convoy was distributed in front of us and behind to protect us from any attacks.

Larissa sat rigidly beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She remained quiet, choosing the silent treatment as a weapon of rebellion. I let her have it, as I had nothing to say to her either. I was so sick and tired of her lies, feeling as though every inquiry I made into her intentions was met by a dead wall.

But once she saw the violence that occurred in her brothers’ operations and realized I had seen it too, the pretenses would have to fall. I knew the Ajellos well enough to sense that trouble was always present when they were involved.

We reached closer to the pier, and, to eliminate any counter-arguments that might arise down the line, gave her some background. “Your brothers run an import operation at the pier. Very profitable. Very illegal. We're going to watch them work.”

She shook her head. “They import furniture and art. It's legitimate, but the only illegal thing they do is take a back-door and avoid import duty.”

I smiled incredulously. “Is that what they told you? And you believed them?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Her fingers twisted together. “They never lie to me.”

The certainty in her voice made me laugh. She frowned in my direction, but, again, chose to ignore me moving forward.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. I could feel her tension growing as we approached the industrial section of the city, the buildings growing more dilapidated, the streets emptier.

My driver pulled into an alley two blocks from the pier, cutting the engine. “Warehouse 7,” he said quietly. “If I drive any further, we could risk being discovered. They're moving product today. Dmitri says at least twenty men are on site.”

I nodded. “We’re going on foot from here. East side has the best view.”

We left the car hidden in the shadows and proceeded on foot. I kept Larissa between my driver and myself, one hand firmly on her arm.

“If you scream,” I murmured against her ear, “you'll get us all killed. Including yourself. Understand? They won’t recognize you from a distance.”

She nodded, her soft hair brushing my jaw with the movement. I caught a whiff of her shampoo, fresh and floral, and I felt my heart stammer in my chest.

It was just the adrenaline from our expedition, or so I told myself.

We approached the warehouse cautiously, staying under cover. The loading dock was busy as hell. Men moved back and forth, carrying crates from a truck into the warehouse. From this distance, it looked like ordinary work—just another mid-afternoon delivery.

This was their trick, I knew. They moved shipments in broad daylight because the authorities wouldn’t believe anyone would have the courage to break the law while the world was wide awake.

Guts. It took guts.

I guided Larissa to a stack of shipping containers that provided cover while offering a clear view of the operation. We crouched behind them, close enough to see but far enough to remain hidden.

“Watch,” I whispered.

For several minutes, nothing happened that would seem out of place. Men unloaded crates. Others checked papers and shouted orders. Ordinary dock work, except for the armed guards positioned at strategic points around the perimeter.

Larissa shifted beside me. “I don't see anything wrong. They're just—”

“Wait,” I cut her off, my eyes fixed on a new arrival—a tall man with silver at his temples. Larissa must have recognized him, too, because she tensed, leaning forward slightly.

“You know him?” I asked.

“He… yes. He’s some sort of manager. He drops by the house sometimes, though we’ve never spoken.”

Good, I thought to myself. This was confirmation enough for her that I had indeed brought her to Gastone’s operation.

We watched as the manager spoke to the foreman, his gestures sharp and angry. Something had clearly gone wrong.

The foreman called over one of the workers, a thin man who looked like he wanted nothing more than to avoid the manager’s attention. There was an argument taking place, with workers all around watching. Then, the thin man raised his hands in supplication.

“What's happening?” Larissa whispered. “Why is the manager angry?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “Just watch.”

The manager nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward and grabbed the thin worker by the arm. Another worker tried to intervene, only to be restrained by a second guard.

“No,” Larissa breathed, seeming to sense what was coming.

The manager raised his hand, and the dock fell silent. He spoke again to the first worker, who was now on his knees. Whatever the man said, it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He nodded to one of the guards, and a gun came into view. Beside me, Larissa gasped and moved as though she wanted to intervene from all the way over here, but I held her in place.

The gunshot cracked across the area, followed an instant later by a second. Both workers collapsed, dark pools spreading beneath them.

Larissa made a choked sound beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. I clamped my arm around her waist, pulling her back against me to keep her from bolting or making noise. Her body convulsed in a silent sob, her eyes fixed on the scene below.

On the dock, work resumed as if nothing had happened. Two men dragged the bodies away while others continued unloading crates. The manager walked away.

“Now,” I said quietly, my mouth close to her ear, “tell me again how your brothers don't hurt people.”

But when I looked down at her face, I saw something I hadn't expected. Not denial. Not anger. But rather pure, unadulterated shock—her skin was devoid of color, her eyes wide and glassy, and her entire body trembling against mine. This wasn't the reaction of someone confronted with a truth they already knew. This was the reaction of someone whose world had just been shattered.

“Larissa,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Larissa, look at me.”

She didn't respond, her gaze still fixed on the dock where her brother’s manager stood casually smoking now while men cleaned up the blood of his victims.

Something cold settled in my stomach—realization, soon followed by a peculiar sort of dread. She hadn't known. She truly hadn't known, and from the way she was breathing—gasping and panting for air—I could tell she was experiencing a deep, worrying panic.

“We need to go,” I murmured to my driver, who nodded and began moving back toward our exit point.

I tried to help Larissa to her feet, but her legs seemed to have lost all strength. Without thinking, I lifted her into my arms. She was light, I thought to myself. Had she been eating? Why the hell didn’t I check on her more? Her eyes remained vacant and shocked as I carried her off. For once, she didn’t put up a fight, and for once, I wished she would have.

That would have meant that today didn’t entirely break her. I was responsible for this, and a strong wave of guilt washed over me.

“I've got you,” I said, the words coming without conscious thought. “Don't look back. Just breathe.”

I carried her to the car, keeping in the shadows and when the driver opened the door, I placed her in the back seat. She adjusted herself to sit, but looked away from me. I got in on the other side, my chest constricting as I saw her trembling form.

As the car pulled away from the alley, Larissa finally moved, turning her head to look at me. Her face remained bloodless, but her eyes were red.

“They killed them,” she whispered. “Shot them like... like they were nothing.”

I didn't answer. What could I say? It was what it was in our world.

“You knew,” she continued, her voice hollow. “You knew what they were.”

“Yes.” There was no point in lying. Not now.

A shudder ran through her, and suddenly tears streamed down her face. My chest tightened with an unfamiliar sensation: worry for her, a feeling I had never felt before.

When I should have been satisfied for proving my point and showing her the truth about her precious brothers, I felt guilt.