“No,” I whisper, horrified. I’m racking my brains trying to remember what Ben told me about our family in Sicily. Ah, yes, I remember him now. “You can’t be! Stefano died in a boating accident when he was eighteen, and you don’t sound remotely Italian.”
He chuckles, and the sound is eerie. “I spent years working with a vocal coach to alter my voice, and you think I died because that’s what we wanted everyone to believe. Your father and I concocted the whole plan after bonding over several summers when he made the trip home.” I don’t remember father visiting Sicily much, but we weren’t always privy to his plans, and he was away a lot. “Your father was in need of an heir because your cheating whore of a mother had failed to birth him a son, and I was the most qualified candidate.”
“You were theonlycandidate,” I retort. “Until Rowan and Romeo were born.”
A harsh laugh rips from his throat. “Your weak offspring was never going to be heir. Alfredo knew it too, and when you failed to get pregnant again, he went wild planting his seed in any pussy he could find.” He flicks a piece of lint off the leg of his pants. “If you couldn’t give him an heir who would be don, he was determined to father an heir who would be an underboss. Though I would never have let it happen,” he adds as the stewardess returns with our drinks and my sandwich.
“How do you know all this?” I ask as the creep gets up and stalks toward the woman with obvious intent on his face.
As he passes, I thrust my leg out and take him down. The flight attendant shrieks and steps back as the man tumbles to the ground. Loud laughter rings out, and I eyeball Stefano with a healthy dose of suspicion.
The creep snarls as he climbs to his feet.
“Leave her alone,” I bark.
He grips my chin, stretching my neck at an awkward angle. “You offering to take her place, bitch?”
Bile swims up my throat, and my heart pounds behind my chest wall.
He lets me go. “That’s what I thought.”
I gulp anxiously over the lump in my throat as he stalks toward the clearly terrified woman. Our eyes lock, and I see familiar panic etched on her face as the creep starts dragging her toward the back of the plane.
“This isn’t right!” I protest, fixing my gaze on Stefano. “Please don’t let him hurt her.”
He purses his lips and glares at me. “Women are meant to shut up and spread their legs. Keep interfering, and I promise it won’t end well for you.” He eyeballs me with a warning look before taking a large sip of his whisky. Up ahead, the woman is hyperventilating and pleading as the creep opens one of the doors and shoves her inside. A few seconds later, she screams, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling nauseated all over again.
“You’re far too emotional,” he says, and I force my eyes open. “No wonder your husband was displeased.”
I flip him the bird on impulse, half expecting a slap, but he laughs, looking mildly amused. I think the psychotic DeLuca gene might flow through his veins.
“You’re not without endearing qualities. You entertain me, and he was an insufferable fool.”
“He was a pig, and I’m glad he’s dead.”
“At least, on that, we agree.” He pushes my plate toward me. “Eat. You’ll need to keep your stamina up.” The look he sends me chills me to the bone. “Eat and I’ll answer your questions.”
That’s about the only thing he could say to force me to eat. My father was a brute, and I hated him, but he was a smart strategist, and he always said knowledge is power, so keeping this degenerate talking is in my best interests. I pick up the chicken salad sandwich and take a bite.
“I have been intricately involved in the business since I was inducted at thirteen,” he explains, and I try to ignore the cries coming from the back of the plane or the guilt I feel for not doing more to try to stop it. “When your father helped me to fake my death, he got me a new American ID and a place at NYU. I got my degree, built a successful business in New York, and made some powerful contacts. All the time, I was working with your father, and he was grooming me to one day take over as don of The Outfit.” A melancholy look transpires on his face. “My father died when I was young. I don’t really remember him. Giuseppe was my father in all the ways that mattered.” The melancholy flees his face, replaced with anger, and I wonder if I know why.
“Yet he was planning to appoint Ben as his heir, so his plans obviously changed.” I’m not sure if that’s quite true. He wanted to use Ben to take control of The Commission, and his plans were for Saskia and Ben to rule supreme. I can’t imagine there was a place for Stefano in that scenario.
Anger gives way to a thunderous expression. “That would never have happened, I assure you.”
“You were planning on betraying my father,” I surmise.
“No!” he yells. “I would never have betrayed Giuseppe. I loved him, even if he was making the wrong decisions. I would have shown him the error of his ways, and together we would have eliminated Bennett Mazzone and controlled all of the USmafioso.”
Yep, definitely crazy.
In an unexpected move, he darts forward and slaps me across the face. “How could you side with those who murdered him?”
“He deserved to die,” I calmly say, rubbing my stinging cheek. “The same way you do.”
“You will wish me dead by the time I’m through with you,” he agrees, draining the last of his drink.
“Whatever you have planned, I won’t do it.”
