But something in her expression tells me she’d see through it, and lying would be an insult to the integrity she just demonstrated.
“That’s not your concern right now,” I say coldly, moving back behind my desk to reassert the power dynamic.
“Not myconcern?” Her voice rises with barely controlled fury. “My future—whether I even have one—isn’t myconcern?”
“Your concern is playing your role convincingly for Viktor Torrino and anyone else who needs to believe this marriage is real. Everything else is speculation.” I keep my tone deliberately cruel. “You’re here because your father’s betrayal demands payment. How long that payment lasts is entirely up to me.”
I watch understanding dawn in her eyes.
Not the specifics of my plan, but the general shape of her powerlessness.
She has no guarantee of survival, no promise of eventual freedom.
Just my word that for now, today, she’s useful alive. Tomorrow, next week, next month—that’s entirely at my discretion.
Her complete lack of begging or pleading disturbs me more than hysterics would.
She just nods once, accepting the non-answer with a resignation that makes something uncomfortable shift in my chest.
“Is that all?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“No.” I lean forward, letting her see the mafia leader behind my eyes. “I want you to understand something, Giuliana. You made the right choice by reporting Romano’s approach. But don’t mistake that for anything more than basic self-preservation. You’re still a prisoner here and completely at my mercy. Whatever integrity you think you demonstrated today doesn’t change the equation between us.”
“And what equation is that?” She’s challenging me now, pushing back despite knowing it’s dangerous.
“You’re Antonio Conti’s daughter,” I say flatly. “That’s all you’ll ever be to me. A tool to make your father suffer for what he took from me. Your personal qualities—your integrity, your courage, whatever honor you think you showed by refusing Romano—none of that matters in the end.”
It’s a lie.
Her qualities matter more than I want to admit, more than is safe to acknowledge.
But saying that would crack the carefully constructed wall between us, would admit that the revenge I’ve built my life around is crumbling because I can’t reconcile the monster I need to be with the man I see reflected in her eyes.
“You’re a monster,” she says quietly. There’s no heat in it. Just factual observation.
“Yes,” I agree, relieved she’s bought my explanation. “I am. And you’d do well to remember that.”
I turn away from her, dismissing her. “We’re done here. Danny will escort you back to your room.”
She leaves without another word, and I’m alone again with my whiskey and Marco’s face-down photograph and the uncomfortable knowledge that I just lied to her and myself about what her integrity means.
After she’s gone, I flip Marco’s photograph back over and stare at his frozen smile. I pour another whiskey.
“She won’t be around long enough for this misguided loyalty to matter,” I tell the image, but the words sound hollow even to me. “The alliance with Viktor will be secure in a few weeks, andthen the original plan proceeds. Her integrity is admirable, but it doesn’t change what has to happen.”
I drain the whiskey and pour another, trying to drown out the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Marco, asking me what the hell I think I’m doing and whether destroying an innocent woman is really the legacy I want to leave in his name.
I don’t have an answer.
And that terrifies me most of all.
11
GIULIANA
I’m losing my mind.
The realization doesn’t come as a shock anymore.
