“Would you two shut the fuck up!?” I snap.
They both laugh at the camera, not a care in the world. Something is off—I feel like these two were instructed to get on this call and annoy the piss out of me. What else could be happening right now?
“I don’t care what you think you know, but I swear to God I will chop off all of Sofia’s fingers after this conversation. Your family hasn’t paid me, has ignored my calls, and now this?”
Antonio translates, then Nick winks at me. “Sure, you will.” He turns to his cousin and begins having a conversation about something mundane, as if me and Antonio aren’t on a call with them.
“You can expect the package in the mail.”
I grind my teeth and move to end the video call.
I force myself to calm down once my office is silent and I’m no longer on camera. I thank Antonio for the help, then I rush out, wondering why they were having a laugh instead of worrying about Sofia. She must have found a way to tell them something. Is she even in the castle anymore?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Dante. He’s the perfect man for this job.
“Yes?”
“Dante. No need to kill or harm anyone but find a dead body, a woman of similar complexion, build, and age as Sofia, then cut the fingers off and send them to her grandfather.”
“I can get that done by tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
I stalk into my new living room, which is slowly feeling more and more like my space rather than living in the discomfort of Marco’s domain. I replaced his taxidermy and his gaudy artwork and furniture with my art and sleek, modern furniture. The space feels massive now compared to the cigarette-smoke riddled, antique-store hellscape it once was. There are probably a dozen balconies in this place, so I don’t know why he insisted on smoking indoors.
I find Elena in the living room, sipping a cup of tea. “Do you know where Sofia is?”
She nods. “She’s working out in the gym.”
“Thanks.”
I head down to the basement, an area I haven’t taken advantage of yet since moving in. Once things calm down, I intend to swim laps or do something positive for my health, but I’ve had too many distractions.
And one of those distractions is squatting what appears to be a recklessly heavy weight. And she’s wearing something that I’d barely call a shirt—the sides are cut off so her front is covered a little, but anyone can see her midriff.
She catches me looking and steadily puts the bar back on the rack.
“Hey! Do you finally have a free afternoon?” She chirps. I can’t tell whether her cheerful demeanor is fake.
My mind races, trying to determine the order of operations for what I should deal with first. Her family not taking her situation seriously or that she paraded through my home looking like that. My eyes trail down her body: at her purple leggings that make her ass look amazing, her tanned skin; her toned body. Even her ponytail drives me insane.
I stuff all of those feelings down and try to look as cold as possible. I can’t let her family walk all over me like this. If word gets around, it’ll make me look weak. And there are already whispers of unhappiness with the change in leadership.
“Bad news, Sofia. Your family doesn’t care about your safety anymore.”
She laughs, but there’s a look of uncertainty on her face as her eyes dart away from mine. She turns her back on me and reaches for one of the weights in an effort to clean up.
“Face me. We’re having a serious conversation.”
She does as I say, but her attitude does not improve. “Are we? Because I don’t believe a word you’re saying. I know they care about my safety.”
I feel my face flush with anger as she grins at me.
“I got on a call with your brother and your cousin. They more or less laughed in my face, and I ended it by telling them I would cut all of your fingers off.”
Her hand reaches up to grip the bar, and I watch as she sweats even more than she did from working out.
“That doesn’t concern me.”
