“I appreciate your bluntness. The man who hit our establishments is my stepson, Dante Rossi.” So that’s why the last name was different.
Wait? Stepson?
“He forced you to marry him?” I’m out of the chair and standing in outrage.
She taps the cigar out before she meets my eyes.
“He might have been a drug lord and massive asshole, but he was Italian and Catholic. After he raped me and got me pregnant, he had to do the right thing. No worries, though. I’ve been a widow for many years, and his money has allowed me to continue my work by hiding behind his drug lord name.” I can feel my neck turning red in rage.
“Pregnant?” I’m about to flip this fucking table.
“Sadly, I miscarried, thanks to one of his many beatings. I was never as submissive a wife as I wished I was.” She stands and walks around the desk and cups my cheek, and I can’t help but notice that she’s looking up at me this time rather than the other way around, the very last time I saw her.
She wipes a tear off my cheek that I didn’t even know I’d shed.
“It’s good to see you again, Enzo. I’ve missed you.”
15
JOEL
“So…you know each other then?” I sit back and cross my arms as I watch a display of affection, reminding me of my Gran’s soap operas.
“Yeah, but fifteen years ago, she was Helena Bianchi.” Twister spits the name out as it burned all the way up from his vocal cords.
Wait, that name tickles a memory, and I tap my knuckles on her desk as I remember why.
“You’re that sixteen-year-old girl who went missing from the old neighborhood. Shit, didn’t your dad die in prison, accused of killing you?” I glance between them as the strange and rather intimate staring contest continues.
“He did. Who do you think sold me?” Twister loses all composure and kicks the chair he was sitting in, and then flings the door open and storms out.
“He’s changed.” The small smile on her lips tells me she’s reminiscing, but that ain’t what I came down here for.
She’ll need to catch up with Twister on her own time.
“Listen, lady, I’m glad you’re still breathing, and you got your revenge, but can we concentrate on the problem at hand? I’vegot a shop with at least a quarter of a million dollars worth of damage, and that’s if I’m lucky. You’re telling me it’s your stepson that’s to blame. I’m guessing you have proof or at least information where I can get it.” I point to her seat to get her back on track.
She reluctantly returns to her desk and nods.
“I have surveillance camera footage of both attackers. He’s at both sites, and he left me this.” She passes me a folder, and when I open it, I curse.
“He isn’t after me. He wants to destroy the people I love. I need you to help me protect Enzo.” She taps the photo of Twister in bed, asleep.
The one with the wordsHe’s nextwritten over his neck in red ink.
“This sounds like a family matter. Why is he involving my club? You’re well off. He cannot want for money.” Her smile turns coy.
“Trouble with buying your bride off a sex trafficking site is prenups aren’t common. He got nothing when his father died, and since he tried to kill me at least twice while his father was alive, I didn’t feel inclined to fund his lavish lifestyle. Needless to say, he’s holding a grudge.” Oh well, that’s just fucking fabulous.
I stand and shake my head in disbelief.
“I suppose not, but how and why is any of this our problem?” She sighs and looks at me like I’m dense.
“Look at that photo closely. Look at his chest.” Weird request, but I pick up the photo of Twister and squint, wishing I could hide my fucking glasses.
“Here,” I glance up and see her handing me a magnifying glass.
“Thanks,” I clear my throat as I use it to examine a photo of my vice president like a fucking perverted creeper.
