Finally.
She stands there for a moment, processing the reality of what I'm telling her, and I watch her face cycle through emotions, anger, fear, guilt, despair.
"Tony really is dead," she whispers. “You’re not lying?”
"Yeah. Sorry, he is."
Tears start flowing again, and she doesn’t turn away from me. Another thing daddy didn't teach her. In this world, showing emotion is handing your enemy ammunition.
"He was a good man," she says to the window.
"Good men die every day in this business."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You mean crime. Murder. All the things my family pretends they don't do."
"They don’t pretend shit. They just don't tell you about it."
"Same thing."
"No, it's not." I move closer to her, and she tenses but doesn't run. "Pretending means lying to yourself. Your daddy knows exactly what he is and what he does. He wanted to keep you innocent for as long as he could."
"Well, congratulations. My innocence officially died tonight."
Maybe Roberto's precious princess isn't quite as sheltered as I thought.
Tommy's voice comes through my earpiece. "House is clear, boss. No movement on any of the sensors. You want me to stick around the house?"
I press the comm button on my collar. "No, head back. Check in every six hours."
"Copy that."
Viviana turns around with a horrified expression when she hears the SUV driving away. "He's leaving us?"
"He's got other things to do."
"It's only us? Alone here?"
"You got a problem with that?"
"Yeah, actually." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't know you. I don't trust you. And I sure as hell don't want to be alone with you in the middle of nowhere."
"Tough shit."
"What if I scream?"
I laugh at that. "For fuck’s sake! Go ahead, try it. Nearest neighbor is three miles away, and they mind their own business."
"What if I try to run?"
"You'll get lost in the woods and probably die of exposure. These hills are full of wild boars, and you're wearing club shoes."
She looks down at her high heels like she's just now realizing how impractical they are. "What if I fight you?"
"It’ll end quickly."
"You're very confident."
"I'm realistic." I head toward the kitchen, suddenly needing a drink. "You want a drink? Water? Beer? Are you even old enough to drink?"
