“For fuck’s sake, Beni,” Enrico mutters.
Benito’s face nearly splits with his shit-eating grin. “Come on, Rico. Don’t tell me you won’t be missing your vibrator.”
I resist the urge to exhale in exasperation. Benito is always like this and it’s similar to the way Rafael acts, which is probably why it irritates and amuses me simultaneously. I slide my gaze to take in Violetta’s reaction and it almost makes me laugh.
She’s giving him a blank stare with her head slightly tilted, akin to how one would look at a dog biting its own leg.
Not that I’ve seen her be expressive about anything, but not all communication is verbal. Although, now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve heard her speak this evening.
“This won’t take but a moment,” I say quietly to Violetta. She brings her gaze to me and I continue. “I’m sure you’re eager to rest comfortably, given the recent events. Or not, considering where your sister is and what she's aiming to accomplish. Either way, I don’t expect this meeting to be long.”
Violetta blinks. Once. Her eye-color isn’t discernible to me with only the city lights for illumination, but her gaze is dull, almost lifeless. Is this because she’s frightened, not only for Carina but for herself? Or does she not care about her sister’s welfare?
Whether I offer encouragement due to her young age, or the fact her sister’s in a dangerous situation, doesn’t matter. I think she needs to hear something reassuring nonetheless.
“I gave your sister my word I would keep you safe at all times, so you don’t have to worry. And as far as Carina and her self-imposed mission… I believe, if anyone can successfully retrieve my brother, it’s her. She is a courageous woman.”
Violetta scans my face, her eyes darting back and forth like a metronome. I’ve learned to decipher people’s expressions and body language, or lack thereof, in order to gain insight to what they’re possibly thinking. When dealing with criminals on a daily basis—those who’d gladly murder you—it becomes imperative to obtain as much intelligence as possible.
It can mean the difference between life and death, more often than not.
This young woman is not a threat to me, and I consider her presence a hindrance more than anything, but her odd behavior is prompting in-depth observations and conclusions. She could be acting in such a way to gain my attention so I’ll spend time decoding her motivations. If that’s the case, then she learned the art of feminine wiles at an early age, which isn’t surprising for a boss’s daughter.
Regardless of her skill level, that bullshit doesn’t work on me and she’ll figure it out soon enough.
Violetta keeps her silence in response to my attempt to encourage her. That act, in and of itself, makes it clear this woman has no interest in speaking to anyone.
And truth be told, I prefer this.
Violetta
Ihaven’t spoken a single word in almost two years.
To some that may sound excessive, eccentric, or maybe eerie. And I suppose it is, but then again, they haven’t seen what I have or experienced what I’ve gone through. Which explains why this situation is uncomfortable, enough to make my scalp tingle and my skin prickle with warning.
I’m not claustrophobic, but the masculine atmosphere in this vehicle is almost suffocating.
And the majority of this imposing energy comes from Tristano Silvestri.
I’ve never been the type of girl who enjoys male attention, even less so after watching the effects from my sister’s assault and how it broke her spirit.
It broke mine as well.
When I lean in my seat the tiniest bit Tristano’s gaze shoots in my direction and it unsettles me for reasons that are beyond trauma. I’m used to being ignored and overlooked, which is my preference, but this man has yet to do either one. Now I’ll have to be cognizant of maintaining my silence—an easier task now that Carina is gone—and be decisive in my movement.
Or else Tristano will have his gaze on me more often than not.
And it’s unwelcome.
The gray of his eyes is like the steel of a pistol, cold and hard. If not for the show of compassion toward my sister earlier, I’d think this man is incapable of it. He doesn’t strike me as someone who has evil flowing through his veins like my father, but Tristano hasn’t walked this earth without coming into contact with it.
And at times, dwelling in it.
It’s an intuitive assumption on my part, but I’m not wrong. Members of the crime syndicate are not only affected by the events pertaining to their lifestyle but also the overall sickness of greed, a vice that’s usually a catalyst for the six other deadly sins. And that type of motivation ultimately leads to destruction.
To the sinners themselves, but I believe it’s mostly to everyone else.
I flick my gaze to the window and squint in order to make out the private airstrip. The hangar eventually comes into view and I’m able to make out the small aircraft with the stairs lowered. Two men, dressed in cargo pants and black t-shirts, stand at the base of the stairs with their arms folded. Their skin is a golden brown, and taking in their features I guess them to be of Hispanic descent.
