Page 11

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.”