“Meh,” Angelo shrugged indifferently. “Women are always upset about something. You should dispose of her if she’s going to be an issue. You have two other Bonifacio girls who can fill in for her.”
I clenched my fists at my sides and bit my tongue till it bled. I wanted to cave his fucking head in for threatening the woman who’d soon be my wife. But I knew my father and understood him. He saw people—even his own sons and daughters—as cogs in a machine. As long as that machine could be maintained, what happened with the smaller pieces didn’t matter much to him. The only thing he coveted was power and having the opportunity to wield it.
I knew all the darkness inside of me came from him, from his lack of nurturing and poor genetics. Sometimes, I wondered if he’d been born without a soul. Of course, sometimes, I wondered if I had, too. I knew that appealing to his humanity wouldn’t work because he had none. If I wanted to reach him, I’d have to make him an offer he saw legitimate value in.
“What is it you want from me, Father?”
A smile of pure maliciousness twisted his wrinkled lips. “Anything?”
“Anything that will not harm either Lucia or any future children we might have.”
His smile widened, and I felt a sense of foreboding fill my gut. “Done.”
My father nodded to one of his men, and at the release of a handle alongside the wall, Giorgio crashed without preamble into the pool of water on the stone floor. Laughing, my father left with his two men, leaving Giorgio to me. Lucia’s brother wore the clothing Philippa had left him with, still appearing unrecovered from the first stint of time he’d served down here. Pale and shivering, he remained on his hands and knees from the multiple shocks he’d been given, and I realized I couldn’t bring Lucia to see him in his current condition. I’d sworn to keep him away from this place, and thanks to Angelo, I’d failed.
I didn’t like to fail.
And I especially didn’t like breaking my word to Lucia, even if technically, I hadn’t been the one to break it.
After watching Giorgio try to stagger to his feet without success for the fifth time in a row, I spoke. “Do you need assistance?”
Instead of answering, he glared at me. “W-what difference d-does that m-make to you?”
“Because Lucia cares about your welfare.”
“You d-don’t.”
“I’m not here for me. I’m here for her.”
Attempting to put himself back together, he fought to stand under his own strength and made it. He was unsteady and had to aim his steps at the wall for support, but he’d managed to get to his feet without help. I felt a grudging respect for him. He’d been humiliated and brought almost as low as a human being could go, but he hadn’t lost his determination or sense of dignity. He and Lucia were alike in that way.
We made agonizingly sluggish progress, but eventually, we managed to make it up to his room. I would have to keep better tabs on him, so once he was situated, I went to the main office. Lucky enough to find no one else there, I set the camera feed to send an alert to my phone if Giorgio went missing again. That way if my father reneged on our bargain, I would know immediately and be able to barricade against whatever he had planned.
Just after I finished installing this piece of software, Savio came in. To hide what I’d been doing I asked him the obvious question.
“Did you know Angelo had Giorgio back in the dungeons again?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. Why did he do that?”
“Pushing my fucking buttons, probably.”
Marcello entered then, looking more sanguine than I could ever remember seeing him. But my focus remained elsewhere. “How about you? You realize what our father has been up to?”
“I overheard just now,” he replied. “Might want to keep your voices down.” He lumbered over to the wet bar and poured himself some amaretto. “And no. I didn’t know, either.”
Frustrated, I snatched the bottle from him. I filled a tumbler, then drank it down fast. Sighing at the sweet burn traversing down my throat, I glanced at my two brothers. Just above Savio’s tie was a visible mark on his throat. I concentrated on the mark and recognized it for what it was.
“Who are you getting love bite’s from, little brother?” I asked him. He and Marcello shared a look, and I considered the most likely answer. “Alessandra?”
Savio went stock still. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I already know Marcello’s doing Chiara, so—”
Marcello spat out his drink like a geyser, making me snort uproariously at him. Then, my middle brother looked me up and down. “You knew?”
“Of course, I knew. You think you’re more subtle than you are, Marcello.”
“You’re different,” Savio observed, tossing me an analytical glance. “What’s up withyou?”
