Page 15 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

MADDELENA

The promise of my soft, luxurious bed so ridiculously early on a Saturday night should’ve been pathetic, but I didn’t care.

The bone-deep weariness weighing me down made me fairly confident – please , God – that I would pass out the second my head touched the pillow.

If for any reason that didn’t happen… well, I planned other ways to ensure a good night’s sleep.

I needed a little – okay, a lot of – reprieve.

With Narciso taking pole position and the team out celebrating, I wouldn’t be disturbed tonight. Please. God.

Dropping the towel I’d used to dry myself into the hamper, I grabbed a fresh one to towel my newly shampooed hair dry as I padded naked from the bathroom.

‘Hey, sis, what’s occurring?’

I froze, then jumped with a screech and lashed out with the towel, adrenaline powering my heart rate into fight mode before recognition kicked in.

A soft chuckle came from the shadowed figure reclined in the armchair next to the balcony doors.

‘What the hell, Sofiya?’ Darting back into the bathroom, I snatched the robe from the hook, punched my arms through the sleeves and tied the belt with more force than necessary. Was I annoyed that my plan to sleep naked and possibly utilise the vibrator in my nightstand had been thwarted?

Maybe. Okay, yes .

Exhaling my irritation, I re-entered the bedroom.

She was sitting cross-legged in a yoga pose, dressed in dark grey leggings and a soft chunky grey sweater, elbows propped on her knees.

Sofiya usually wore her hair short, severe and slicked back.

It struck me how long it’d been since I’d last seen her when I saw that her hair had grown enough to be knotted on top of her head and she had auburn highlights streaking the usual jet black.

Besides a brush of mascara, she was make-up free, her natural beauty on full display.

She returned my scrutiny, her eyes tracking me across the room.

‘When did you get in?’ I picked up the hairbrush on my nightstand and ran it through my hair.

I needed something to dissipate the adrenaline coursing through me.

Something to distract me from the unsettling realisation that for a split second, I’d hoped my unwanted visitor was Cesare, not my sister.

‘In time to check in and catch Ciso take pole position,’ she answered.

My eyes darted to my phone. Quali ended three hours ago, and I’d been back in my hotel room for nearly an hour. ‘You’ve been here over four hours and didn’t bother to let me know?’

She had the grace to look away, but there was no sign of contrition when she looked back at me. ‘It was a long flight. I wanted to relax a little.’

‘You’ve seen Ciso though, of course.’

A flash of guilt lit across her face, but it disappeared far too quickly to make a meaningful impact.

‘Yeah. He said you were busy with crew meetings so we hung out for a bit after he was done with his media duties.’ Uneasy silence lingered for a moment before she tilted her head a fraction.

‘So, another potential win on the cards. Must be pissing off the Salvatores no end, huh?’ Her eyes drilled into me as she asked the question, and I sensed there was more to her words. And to her visit.

I shrugged. ‘I don’t really concern myself with the Salvatores’ feelings.’

Her gaze didn’t relent. ‘I heard a little rumour in the paddock tonight.’

I stiffened, then forced my shoulders to relax. ‘Oh yeah?’ I was sure I could talk my way out of my visit to Cesare’s hotel suite last night. But I didn’t relish it.

‘Apparently the heir blew his top at his team meeting yesterday morning. Announced there was a mole and that heads would roll unless the traitor came forward?’

I’d heard the same rumour. Which was why I’d imagined he’d contact me again. And no, the sensation in my belly wasn’t disappointment.

I set the hairbrush down and met her gaze. ‘I heard that too. So?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘So.’ She dragged the word out. ‘Was that why the heir was hanging around you at the nightclub two weeks ago? Because if things are escalating?—’

‘Why are you really here, Sofiya?’ The unsavoury secrets I sensed she was being forced to keep on behalf of Bonafacio and the family I could take.

The distance it’d created between us even though we weren’t close to start off with hurt, but I could deal with that too.

What I wasn’t going to stand for was her probing into my business.

Especially when said business was dangerous and could earn me worse than a beating if I didn’t tread carefully.

I hated to even think it, but I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust my own sister. And that hurt, too.

She spread her arms out in blatantly false nonchalance. ‘What? I can’t turn up and watch my brother kick some Salvatore ass on the racetrack? Bonafacio is beside himself with glee, by the way, so kudos to you all, I guess.’

‘You guess?’

She rose lithely to her feet. I swallowed another wavelet of jealousy.

Sofiya was as slender as a prima ballerina but with exaggerated curves in all the right places.

And at five eleven, she was also the tallest of the Mancinelli women.

She’d been first in line when athletic talents were being handed out, winning netball and hockey championships, as well as high school track and field.

I wanted to think her athletic ability to go toe to toe with him was what made her and Narciso so close, but I knew it was because my sister just wasn’t a girl’s girl type of sister.

Hell, she wasn’t a people person, period.

And that was before the burden of being Bonafacio’s… whatever she was. Confidante?

‘I also spoke to Stefano tonight.’

I grimaced. Our father’s half-brother was a menace and a nuisance at the best of times.

An oops byproduct of Bonafacio’s tryst with a stripper that had ended up in a third, very acrimonious marriage, Stefano was born a pariah and had been desperately trying to fit in since he’d drawn his first breath.

At thirty-six, he was caught between generations. With my father and aunt treating him like the unwanted family pet, and Bonafacio not having any defined use for him, he’d been pawned off as part of Mancinelli Racing just to get him out of New York.

He’d been the first one to spring to mind when Cesare first raised his accusation. But with his short fuse and overblown sense of his own importance, openly confronting Stefano with a charge like that would be like tossing a lit match into a fuel tank, so I’d needed to be circumspect.

‘I’m hoping we haven’t been stupid enough to actually do something like this at all or without covering our tracks properly?’

‘What did Stefano say?’ I asked, evading the direct question. For now.

Sofiya turned from snagging a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘He said, and to quote, “I would give my left nut to know who the mole is, so I can triple whatever he’s getting.”’ She wrenched off the plastic cap and took a gulp. ‘And you know how he gets when he’s marinating in jealousy.’

Pursing my lips, I nodded. ‘He’s not the mole, if there is one,’ I said.

‘He’s not. Besides, he doesn’t have the brains or balls to orchestrate something like that. Not without a fuckload of help from someone more… astute.’

My gaze searched hers harder, even though I suspected I’d fail at reading her unless she wanted me to. ‘Is that why you’re here? Do you know something I don’t, Sofiya? Or are you here to play amateur detective? Because if it is, I can do without another headache to manage.’

She took a longer sip. ‘I told you, I’m here to support the team for the weekend. But… if anyone chooses to throw their weight around or something interesting kicks off, I’d hate to miss it.’

The shards of cold steel in her voice sent several shivers down my spine.

I pushed steel into my voice when I answered. ‘I’m CEO of this team, Sofiya. You don’t do anything without running it by me first, is that clear?’

Her eyes remained on the cap she was screwing back on the water bottle. And when she raised them, they were disarmingly neutral. ‘Sure thing, sis.’

I told myself that had to be enough.

But the heavy ball of dread in my belly remained long after she’d left.