Why have I never noticed before now how he tries to appease others? Is he really the bumbling buffoon I claimed him to be, or was this another instance of my revenge clouding my judgment?
“Massio, good to see you! Is everything okay with Theodora?”
I want to tell him she hates being called Theodora and he’s not to call her that again, but judging by the glass scattered on the floor and the papers strewn across the table, I don’t think now is the time to be critical.
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I was wondering if we could have a chat tomorrow before you leave again?” I look at him pointedly, wondering if he’ll call me out on the fact that I know he plans on leaving again so soon.
He nods and stares down at the papers while I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out some of the wording on them, but I fail.
I clear my throat. “I do, however, have an update for you regarding her stalker.”
He lifts his head, and I want to shake the pitiful expression off his face. I want to tell him to pull his shoulders back, to stand tall, and whatever the fuck Veronica has said or done, fuck her.
“Oh?”
“The guy was Wayne Price,” I grit out.
He tilts his head. “Was?”
I give him a firm nod. “Was.”
“Good. That’s the end of that, then.” He claps his hands together, and I assess him. Is he really not going to ask any questions? He’s basically accused Thea of lying about somethingvile. No wonder she became such a brat—the girl was lashing out, begging for someone to rescue her.
Begging for me.
“He had a shrine to her.”
He jolts. The only reaction he’s had since I mentioned the scumbag. “A what?”
“A shrine,” I spit out. “My men found a shrine. He’d been stalking her since she was around twelve.”
His chest rises, and he swallows hard. “Twelve?”
“Yes. A child.” My tone is clipped because monsters like Wayne are on another level. I take the photo of him out of my jacket pocket and slide it across the table toward him.
“Does he look familiar to you?” I drag a casual finger over my lip as I assess his body language. I may appear calm, but every part of me is burning inside to punish him, punish Veronica, punish them all.
His head falls into his hands, and his mumblings are incoherent. He hiccups, then coughs as if attempting to disguise the fact.
“Thea has been terrified for a long time. Why were there never any police reports or anything regarding her concerns?” I say louder.
He lifts his head, and shame oozes from him. “Because we didn’t want a scandal.”
“A scandal?” I grit through clenched teeth. “Why the fuck would there be a scandal?”
His entire body is trembling. “She was assaulted as a girl. When she was twelve,” he rushes out. Then he flinches and his face pales.
That look tells me everything I need to know, and I’m fucking furious. I pump my fists beside me, and I’m seconds away from using him as my personal punching bag. I rear back. Whatever Ithought he was going to say, it wasn’t that. “I’m sorry, what?” I demand.
He nods with a grimace. “She was touched.”
Fucking touched? He touched her? My girl. I let him die so easily.
“She was promised to a man of significance, but we couldn’t proceed with the agreement due to the Mafia blood vow. We made our excuses and backed out of the deal, then moved on.” He’s referring to the fact Theodora might not have bled when losing her virginity due to being assaulted. I could tell him she did, in fact, bleed despite the assault, but that’s between my girl and me. Not this piece of shit who is undeserving of her.
Then he clears his throat. “The man in the photo was a worker on our estate. One of many my wife was having an affair with. A pool boy, to be precise.”
I choke on thin air.
