Another laugh burst through my lips, sarcasm dripping around its edges as my hand came up again and I aimed his gun at him. “Thanks for the fuck,” I sneered. Slowly, his brow lifted, his controlled expression messed with my mind. “Guess what, Salvatore, the safety’s off. This time.” Now, I arched a brow. He cocked his head to one side. And I pulled the trigger. Twice.
The bastard that he was, even as he fell to the floor, his expression remained blank. I would never know if I made a dent in that cold demeanor of his or not. Frankly, I hated that I cared, cared enough to want to know how he felt when he saw that gun being aimed at him, how he felt when the bullet entered his body. Was it painful or did his rigid body feel nothing? How he felt knowing I was the one to end his life.
“There’s no hell more powerful than a broken woman determined to rise, Salvatoreil diavolo.” I walked out.
46
Gianna (20 years)
Three days later, I crossed the room from the balcony I was standing at, admiring the view. Castello di Salvatore was beautiful, even more, beautiful was my return. I had no idea what the Black Daggers had done with Salvatore’s body, and I didn’t care. When I returned to their office with the signed agreement all the old man had said was congratulations and we’ll be in touch. The next morning, Crow appeared at my door with a plane ticket, a thousand dollars, and a new passport. I guessed I’d impressed the Black Daggers.
“Dinner is ready,signora.”
“Thank you, Rosana.”
She lavished me with a smile that said she was glad to have me back. Even though she hadn’t asked any questions and I hadn’t given any information, we’d moved into that comfortable space we had before my exile as I liked to call it.
I slipped into the seat at the dining table, my gaze drifting over Salvatore’s seat. Rightfully, I should be sitting in that spot, I didn’t, choosing to give it time. Playing the mourning wife didn’t suit me. With a slow smile, I sliced into the tender steak.
“God, Gianna, you’re a sight.
I was on my fourth bite when I glanced up to find Julian staring back at me, his smile wide. “Julian!” I squealed, suddenly forgetting my new femme fatale image for a moment and just wanting to be my old self with someone I trusted unconditionally.
He enveloped me in a bear hug easily lifting me off my feet before kissing my cheek and setting me down. On my return, Rosana had informed me that Julian had traveled back to New Orleans to see his sister who was ill.
“Wow.” He held my arms, looking at me with admiration. “Your mom would’ve been so happy to see her baby all grown up.” I immediately sobered and he shook his head. “I’m sure you’ve been through hell, sweetheart and it’s a compliment that you’re still standing.”
“Thank you.” I looped my arm with his. “Come sit with me. Like old times, okay?”
He nodded and slid down into the seat that Rosana with her invisible efficiency had already set for him. How the steak appeared, I had no idea.
Twenty minutes and halfway through our second steak—yes, it seemed my appetite had returned. I’d told Julian all that had happened including shooting Salvatore.
“Did you really kill him, Gianna?” he asked, his expression blank.
“With his gun.”
