Luca is there, standing by the window, his posture rigid. He turns as we enter, and the expression on his face…
I don’t care. I don’t care if he looks devastated or guilty or relieved or anything else. He doesn’t get to feel things about this. He doesn’t get to care that I tried to escape.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” The words burst from him as he stalks toward me, his eyes wild. “You could have been killed! Do you have any idea how many threats are out there? How many people would love to get their hands on you?”
“Oh,nowyou care about people wanting to kill me?” I wrench myself out of Danny’s grip now that we’re inside, backing away from Luca. “That’srich, coming from the man who was planning my murder!”
“I wasn’t going to—” He stops, runs both hands through his already disheveled hair. “The plan changed, Gigi. I told you that!”
“You told melies!” My voice rises to a scream. “You told me we had a future! You told me my father was safe! You told me you—” The word sticks in my throat and I nearly gag on them. “You told me you loved me.”
The color drains from his face. “Idolove you?—”
“Liar!” I’m backing up until my spine hits the wall, trying to put distance between us even though there’s nowhere to go. “You’re a fucking liar and I’mdonelistening to you! I’m done believing anything that comes out of your mouth!”
Luca’s face twists with something that might be pain, but I don’t care. I don’tcarewhat he feels.
“Then what do you want from me?” His voice cracks. “What can I possibly do to make you believe?—”
“Nothing,” I say with finality. “There’s nothing you can do. You destroyed us, Luca. You destroyed any chance we had the moment you decided my life was worth less than your revenge.”
I see something crumble in his expression. He reaches for me even though he must know I’ll pull away.
And that’s when I decide.
Right there, in that moment, I decide to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. To take the one thing he’s been searching for and use it as a weapon.
Because if I’m trapped here, if I can’t escape, then at least I can make sure he understands exactly what he’s lost. Make sure he knows that whatever we had is dead, killed by his own hands.
He closes the distance, hand outstretched. His fingers brush my wrist—just a touch—and when he looks down his face goes slack. My palms are raw and red; blood has caked into the creases. A streak runs from my thumb and smears across the inside of his wrist where his sleeve knocks against me.
He jerks back as if burned. “Gigi?—”
I don’t let him finish. I step back enough to lift my hands so he can’t look away. “You want to know who really killed Marco?” I tell him tauntingly, viciously. “Youreallywant to know? I’m surprised you’ve never figured it out, honestly.”
Luca goes completely still. His hands freeze mid-reach, his entire body locking into immobility. Even his breathing seems to stop.
“What are you talking about?” His voice is barely audible.
“Salvatore Romano.” I let the name drop between us like the bomb it is, watching it detonate across Luca’s face. “I recognized his voice that first night at the gathering. The same voice I heard on my father’s phone three years ago, giving orders. The same voice that called Marco’s death ‘acceptable collateral damage.’”
The color drains from Luca’s face so completely I think he might actually collapse. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. I see the twitch in his jaw, the flicker of disbelief in his eyes as the truth claws its way in.
Behind him, I hear Danny’s sharp intake of breath.
“You knew.” Luca’s voice is deadly quiet now, shaking with barely controlled fury. His hands are fists at his sides, knuckles white. “You’ve known it was Romano this entire time.”
“Yes.” I lift my chin, refusing to back down even though every instinct is screaming that I’ve just made a terrible mistake. “I lied when you asked if I recognized the voice on the recording. I did. I knew it was him the entire time. You wasted your time when Marco’s murderer was in front of you the entire time.”
22
LUCA
The world stops.
Not the way it stopped when I found Marco’s body. Not the gradual, horrifying realization that everything had changed forever. This is instant. Absolute. Like someone just ripped the oxygen from the room and replaced it with pure rage.
Salvatore Romano.
