She doesn’t budge. “Do you even realize what you’re asking of me? If Carlo gets wind of this, not even Don Fernando can save me from him.”
I’m done with this back-and-forth, so I play my trump card. “And if you don’t make it happen, no one will be able to save you from Don Fernando.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “What do you mean?”
I plant both feet firmly on the ground, lean forward in my seat, and deliver my point with a deadly tone.
“I mean that Don Fernando will learn about your dirty little secret; how you murdered Carlo’s previous two wives.”
Despite the layers of makeup on her face, she turns as pale as a sheet.
“You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?” I tease her. “Thought you could quietly get rid of them, ruin Carlo’s reputation, block him from having an heir, and stop him from cementing his place in the family.”
I pause for a beat, bitterness creeping into my voice. “You idiot! Look at what you’ve done. You’ve turned him into a living nightmare. Now people fear the Wife-Killer more than ever. Just the mention of his name makes them piss themselves. No one dares to challenge him. You’ve only made him more revered among the psychopaths in the mafia.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I’m done. I’ve said what needed to be said. Rising to my feet, I throw her one last, icy warning before leaving her room.
“Of course, you know, my dear mother. Make it happen by tonight. Otherwise, I can’t promise you’ll live to see the sunrise.”
SEVEN
Lucia
The sight of vases of all sizes scattered haphazardly throughout the library brings a faint smile to my face for the first time today. I’d be lying if I said my body didn’t freeze the moment I saw Tony at lunch. I never expected to see him again after a year. I thought he was gone from my life for good, and that thought brought a strange mix of relief and despair. Relief that my secret would stay hidden. Despair that he was truly gone forever.
I can’t lie to myself, I still love him. A blind, senseless love. The kind only a first love can create. A love born from youthful naivety, growing wild with fantasy and delusion.
I’m not ungrateful. This past year under Carlo’s roof has been far easier than the nineteen years I spent under my father’s. I rarely see him, and that’s exactly how I want it. I’ve followed every rule to the letter, giving him no reason to come looking for me.
I know he has a parade of women outside this house. Even within these walls, he’s been sleeping with one of the maids, a woman named Aida. I don’t care. As long as he has someone to satisfy his urges and stay away from me, I have no complaints.
After that torturous lunch under Tony’s burning gaze, Carmen texted me about some extra flower pots. She’d had them delivered to the library. She asked me to organize them. Once I was sure she wasn’t home and there was no chance of running into her, I came here.
I run my fingers over the vibrant green leaves and purple blossoms of the beautiful plant in front of me. It needs to be placed near sunlight. Picking it up, I walk toward the window when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man in the room. My pulse races. I’m absolutely certain no one was in the library when I arrived.
I spin around and see Tony. My fingers go numb, and the flowerpot slips from my hands, shattering on the floor.
My hands stay suspended in mid-air. Tony stands before me, dressed in a three-piece designer suit, exuding his usual composure. His arrogant gaze briefly drops to the scattered dirt on the floor before it settles on me.
“Seems you’re scared.” His voice cuts through the air like a whip, snapping me out of my daze.
I lower my arms to my sides and take a step back. A hint of worry fills me.
“I’m not allowed to be alone with you,” I blurt out. Carlo’s threats echo in my mind.
His expression remains shuttered. He slips a hand into his pocket and steps closer.
“I know. You haven’t broken any rules, Princess. I’m the one who sought you out. If there’s any sin, it’s on me.”
His cologne wraps around me, warm and dangerous. The way he speaks so gently, walks with that masculine confidence, and looks at me with such heat, it all sends me into a trance. My eyes refuse to move, as if paralyzed.
Long moments pass before I finally pull myself together. What am I doing? Why am I acting like a flustered schoolgirl? I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and force calm into my voice.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bruni. You know the rules of this house better than anyone. They can’t be broken.”
“Call me Tony.”
