The entire table falls dead silent, the men sneaking glances at Carlo as they all wait for him to answer. Only, I’m hoping he spontaneously chokes on his tongue because if he says what he’s thinking right now, I am so screwed.
“Eh, what do you want me to say, Angelo?” Carlo shrugs. “It’s not like you need to piss circles around her. Everyone knows Matteo?—”
A gunshot rings out before he can finish that sentence, and blood sprays across the table. Carlo clutches his throat, wheezing out a curse before his gaze locks on Angelo.
“You stupidcornutu.” He starts to laugh, even as he chokes on his own blood. “She’s going to fuck you over. Matteo told me everything.”
Angelo’s gaze cuts to me, inky black and steeped in fury. I can’t hide my horror, and I’m already shaking my head in denial. I don’t want to believe Matteo would do that, but why else would Carlo say it?
“What is he talking about, Abella?” The chill in Angelo’s voice sends a shiver straight through me.
“I…I don’t?—”
It’s all I manage to get out before Angelo rises from his seat, his command slicing through the air with razor-edged authority. “Everyone out.”
The guests abandon their seats as Angelo kicks Carlo’s chair back, knocking him onto the floor. He wrenches a cloth napkin from the table and kneels beside the man who holds my fate in his hands.
“Tell me.” He clamps the napkin over the wound to stem the bleeding.
Carlo gurgles a response, blood exploding from his lips. His words are no longer decipherable.
“Tell me.” Angelo fists Carlo’s shirt by the collar and yanks him up into a sitting position, but it’s no use. Carlo sputters out his last breath, then falls limp.
For a moment, I stand there in shock, watching as Angelo closes his eyes and exhales a sharp breath. Every muscle in hisbody draws tight as he shoves Carlo’s body back to the floor and turns his gaze on me.
My flight response kicks in, and I run.
I burst out of the house and stumble over the cobblestones as his footsteps echo behind me. I can’t make it over the gate, and I really have nowhere to go, but giving up isn’t an option. I round the side of the house and skirt around the pool, spotting a gap in the hedges I can squeeze through. But as I’m closing in on it, an unyielding arm captures me from behind and brings me to a dead halt.
“Abella.” Angelo cocks his revolver and shoves it beneath my chin.
A cocktail of fear and adrenaline surges through my veins as I consider the possibility he might actually do it. One humiliation was tempting fate. Two, I’m not sure I can survive.
Carlo Pagnotto said what the whole room was already thinking, and he made sure to sign my death warrant, too.
“Tell me.” Angelo breathes hard, his rage a palpable heat behind me.
“I don’t know,” I blurt.
What’s one more lie?I’ve already told plenty of them. There’s no way I’m going to confess everything when he’s this angry. My fragile heart would fare better dead than fractured and tossed into the discard pile.
Just like my mother.
The weight of his finger bears down on the trigger. I squeeze my eyes shut. A sharp, metallic snap splinters the silence, and my heart explodes in my chest.
It was a dry fire. He’s playing Russian roulette.
“Angelo, please.”
“Spare me your begging,” he grits out. “All I want from you is the fucking truth.”
“I don’t know?—”
Another sharp click. Another dry fire.
“Angelo.” Panic edges my voice as I try to pull away, but his grip is too tight.
Click.
