Why someone like him, who didn’t seem charity-minded, suddenly showed up at my door. Why he’d been so eager to do the most boring of tasks: unloading and sorting the toys from the trucks.
Betrayal was swift. It cut me off at the knees. If I’d been standing, I would have crumpled.
It was one thing to use my charity. I mean, it was screwed up. But that was one thing. It was a complete other matter to charm me, to go to parties with me, to put his hands on me, to fuck me.
My heart ached.
My stomach churned.
But I couldn’t process my personal feelings right then. Not with a guy chasing us. And definitely not with Venezio watching me so closely.
I’d be damned if he saw how deep his betrayal cut.
“How was the other director involved?”
“He was paid to look the other way.”
“He took money from the mob.”
“He did.”
“What did he do with it?”
“Funded his life, I imagine.”
I didn’t want to believe that. I wanted to be able to keep the man on a pedestal. The thing was, when I’d inherited the charity, I knew how little had been done for the actual children. Sure, some presents were given out. But not nearly enough for a man who used the charity as his “full-time job.”
I think I’d made a lot of excuses since taking over because itwashard. It was so much harder than I’d anticipated. But I had a job outside of this. I figured it was so difficult for me because I was new and because it wasn’t my sole focus.
“When you showed up,” I said, glancing up at him.
“I was trying to feel out if you’d be open to a bribe too.”
“And you decided I wasn’t.”
“No. You’re in this for the kids.”
“So you took the job to work behind my back.”
“Yes.”
“And you befriended me because… why? So I didn’t look twice at you? Didn’t suspect you?”
“That wasn’t supposed to be part of it, no.”
I wanted to believe him. I didn’t want to think there was a personal aspect to this, that genuine feelings had grown for him.
What better way to get me to not look into anything suspicious if he was charming me, if he was sleeping with me?
Bile slid up my throat.
“Steph, look—” Venezio started, his head tipped to the side. But just then, there was a loud yell from out on the street, followed by more cries of outrage.
I shot to my feet.
Venezio lifted his gun.
“Stay here,” he demanded, turning and making his way toward the mouth of the alley.
