Our relationship lasted three years. Most of the time we had to sneak around, which in the beginning was fun, however I learned in the end, Petra had played me for a fool. She used the fact she could unbalance me to her advantage. After stealing valuable intel from my office, she left without a word. I’d been used.
For a long time, my stupid heart couldn’t let go of the idea Petra had to have loved me. How could she have faked the passion? I refused to believe it was all a lie. That was until I saw her eighteen months later with her husband. We were at a gala, and the moment she spotted me, her eyes went wide and her face paled.
By that time, I had hardened myself even more. She thought I was cold back then. Petra had no idea what I’d become since she humiliated me and broke my heart. I’d thrown myself into work after she ghosted me. I made new contacts and set about plotting my revenge. It was Lorenzo who’d picked me up and dusted me off. He told me to stop wallowing and take back control. So that’s what I did.
Over the course of those eighteen months, I systematically bought all of Petra’s and her husband’s debts. He was a terrible gambler, which I suspect was part of the reason she went through the whole charade of loving me to steal information that would make him some money. I’m sure it paid off in the short term, but his addiction was beyond her control, and within a year he had debt up to his greasy hair again.
So, once I procured the debt, I also began buying large amounts of stock in Petra’s family businesses. By the time I saw her at the gala, I owned her. She just didn’t know it. People may claim I never really loved her if I was able to be so callous in the end.
Wrong. I loved Petra with all my heart, but I would not be a victim. All this “turn the other cheek” and “be the bigger person” bullshit is for the weak. Someone scorns me, I return it tenfold. Life threw tragedy and pain at me from a young age. Well, I gave life the middle finger. And I gave Petra twenty-four hours to pay her debts and vacate her house. Petra’s family name was burned from the history books. I solidified the Ferrante family as the most powerful name in Italy that night.
My trip down memory lane is a warning to myself. Bonnie affects me like Petra did. Looks-wise, they are day and night. But their personalities are far too similar for comfort. I’ll never let myself be made a fool again, which is why I need to keep Bonnie away from me. And therein lies the problem. She will be here twenty-four seven. The villa is big, but it’s still a small world, as they say.
I can’t even travel for work, considering Lorenzo has put me in charge of her safety. Hopefully, having her dads, best friend, and apparently other best friend, Pete, here will distract her enough we can avoid each other.
That’s a tomorrow problem, though. Right now, I just want to bask in the fact I am home alone, with a gorgeous, full-bodied red, under the spectacular Sicilian sky. No matter my worries, a few hours sitting here cures all ailments.
Of course, the universe has other plans. Apparently, I wronged the gods somewhere along the line.
“Excuse me, Allegra,” Enzo, head of security at the villa, says, “we have a problem.”
Sighing, I turn and slip back into boss mode. “What’s wrong?”
“Another shipment has been attacked.”
“Did you catch them?”
He nods. “I thought you’d like a chat with them.”
My eyebrow raises. I don’t usually get my hands dirty nowadays. The family deals with troublemakers, so for Enzo to include me, means whoever he caught is no lackey.
“Lead the way.”
Enzo takes me to the cellar. It’s cliché, but they are useful for this type of activity for a reason. No windows, half-metre thick walls, and no interruptions.
As I step onto the cellar floor, I almost falter in my step. “Gisto. This is a surprise.”
Why is Gisto directly involved in hijacking our shipments? He’s far too important to be doing such a job, especially when the risk of being caught is so high. It doesn’t make sense.
“Allegra.” His eye is bruised, but it’s a few days old. Presumably, it’s the work of his father, like Luke mentioned. Apart from that, he is unharmed. The family knows better than to beat the son of Giani Arello.
I drag over a chair and place it opposite Gisto. He isn’t tied up, but two of my biggest men stand at either side of his shoulders.
“Fancied yourself a little fun this evening, it seems.”
He shrugs. Sitting back, I cross one leg over the other and regard him silently. There is a game at play, and I need to figure out what the rules are. Gisto wouldn’t have attacked a shipment without his father’s say-so. Giani wanted him to be caught, but why? And then it dawns on me. I can’t help but chuckle, which earns a confused look from Gisto.
“You’re free to go home, Gisto. Would you like a ride?”
He looks utterly confused. Giani’s plan was rudimentary at best, but could have been effective if it were anyone but me he was dealing with. As I mentioned before, Giani still plays by the old rules. He still uses the old-school Mafiosi handbook. Unfortunately for him, I do not.
Giani expected me to teach Gisto a lesson. He probably thought I’d be so consumed with rage because Gisto had so brazenly tried to steal from me, my ego would have taken over and I would hurt Gisto. If I did fall into the trap, Giani would have declared a vengeance war. One familyopenlyhurting another paves the way for a legitimate fight for honour and all that macho bullshit. Ridiculous, if you ask me. It’s not the 1920s, for heaven’s sake.
Frankly, I’m more offended Giani thought I’d fall for such a poorly thought-out plan. He must be getting desperate. The Arello family has been hitting our imports for a while now, without any backlash from us. Giani is clearly getting tired and wants to push me.
“Enzo, please make sure Gisto gets home safely. Oh, and give him a bottle of our house wine. For the wife,” I say with a smile. Poor Gisto; his father is not going to be pleased and I’m sure he’ll get the brunt of his outburst.
With that taken care of, I bid Enzo and the rest of the family good night. It’s been a long day, and by the looks of things, the coming days are going to be hell. Sending a quick update to Lorenzo, I shut myself in my ensuite, run the bath, and sink into the bubbles.
